In the old West

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IN THE OLD WEST

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OUTING ADVENTURE LIBRARY

IN THE OLD WEST

BY GEORGE FREDERICK RUXTON

As It Was in the Days of Kit
Carson and the "Mountain Men"

EDITED BY

HORACE KEPHART

NUMBER 1

NEW YORK

OUTING PUBLISHING COMPANY

MCMXVI

Copyright 1915 by
OUTING PUBLISHING COMPANY

All rights reserved.

Ubrary

INTRODUCTION

When we bought the Louisiana Territory from
Napoleon, in 1803, it was not from any pressing
need of land, for we still had millions of fertile
acres east of the Mississippi. The purchase was
made to forestall complications with foreign pow-
ers, either with the arch-conqueror himself, whose
ambition was supposed to be the mastery of the
whole world, or with Great Britain, to which the
western country was sure to fall in case France
should be defeated. Possession of Louisiana was
essential to our free navigation of the Mississippi.

The vast domain thus added to our boundaries
was terra mcognita. Aside from its strategic
importance no one knew what it was good for.
So Lewis and Clark were sent out from the fron-
tier post of St. Louis to find a route to the Pacific
and to report on what the new country was like.

The only commercial asset that these explorers
found which was immediately available was an
abundance of fur-bearing animals. Fur may be
called the gold of that period, and the news that
there was plenty of it in the Rocky Mountains
lured many an intrepid spirit of the border.
Companies of traders proceeded at once up the
Missouri to barter for peltries with the Indians.

5

6 INTRODUCTION

They established posts and arranged rendezvous
in remote fastnesses of the mountains where they
carried on a perilous but very profitable traffic.
At the same time there went into the Far West
many independent adventurers to hunt and trap
on their own account.

In the motley ranks of these soldiers of fortune
the boldest and most romantic characters were
the free trappers — those who went, as they ex-
pressed it, " on their own hook." The em-
ployees of the fur companies were under strict
discipline that checked personal initiative. They
were of the class who work for hire and see no
compensation for an arduous life save the wages
earned from their taskmasters. But the free trap-
pers were accountable to nobody. Each of them
fought his own fight and won the full fruit of
his endeavors. Going alone, or in small bands
who acknowledged no captain and would split up
whenever the humor moved them, everyone a law
unto himself and relying upon his own strong arm,
they were men picked by nature for great enter-
prises and great deeds.

It was not love of gain for its own sake that
drew the free trappers into the wilderness. To
them a pack of beaver skins was a mere gambler's
stake, to be squandered riotously after the fash-
ion of Jack ashore. What did compel them to a
life of endless wandering and extreme hazard was
the sheer lust of adventure, and a passion for that

INTRODUCTION 7

absolute, irresponsible freedom that can be en-
joyed only in a state of nature. Never in our
history have there been pioneers who took greater
risks than they, or endured harsher vicissitudes,
or severed themselves so completely from the civil-
ization in which they were born. Nowhere, and
at no time, have men of our race been thrown
more upon their individual resources in unknown
regions, and through periods of great peril, nor
have there ever been characters more fitly devel-
oped to stand such strain.

Cut off from the repressing and refining in-
fluences of civilization, forever warring with this
Indian tribe and cohabiting with that, it was in-
evitable that most of these men should revert
toward the status of white barbarians. And yet
it would be a grave error, an injustice, to rate
them with mere renegades and desperadoes. The
trapper, whatever his faults, was stil] every inch
a man. Bravest of the brave, yet cool and saga-
cious in the strategy of border war, capable in any
emergency, faithful to his own code of honor, gen-
erous without limit to everyone but his foes, loyal
to the death, frankly contemptuous of luxury and
caste and affectation, imperial in his self-respect
but granting equal rights to others, there was
something heroic in this fierce and uncouth figure
who dominated for a time the vast plains and
mountains of the wild West. And it should not
be forgotten that the early traders and trappers

8 INTRODUCTION

performed an indispensable service to their coun-
try that no other men of their time were able, or
at least willing, to do : they were the explorers, the
trail-makers, for western civilization.

General Chittenden, our first authority on the
history of the fur trade, says of the mountain
men : " It was the roving trader and the solitary
trapper who first sought out these inhospitable
wilds, traced the streams to their sources, scaled
the mountain passes, and explored a boundless
expanse of territory where the foot of the white
man had never trodden before. The Far West be-
came a field of romantic adventure, and developed
a class of men who loved the wandering career of
the native inhabitant rather than the toilsome lot
of the industrious colonist. The type of life
thus developed, though essentially evanescent, and
not representing any profound national movement,
was a distinct and necessary phase in the growth
of this new country. Abounding in incidents pic-
turesque and heroic, its annals inspire an interest
akin to that which belongs to the age of knight-
errantry. For the free hunter of the Far West
was, in his rough way, a good deal of a knight-
errant. Caparisoned in the wild attire of the In-
dian, and armed cap-a-pie for instant combat, he
roamed far and wide over deserts and mountains,
gathering the scattered wealth of those regions,
slaying ferocious beasts and savage men, and lead-
ing a life in which every footstep was beset with

INTRODUCTION 9

enemies and every moment pregnant of peril. The
great proportion of these intrepid spirits who laid
down their lives in that far country is impressive
proof of the jeopardy of their existence. All in
all, the period of this adventurous business may
justly be considered the romantic era of the his-
tory of the West. . . .

" It was the trader and trapper who first ex-
plored and established the routes of travel which
are now, and always will be, the avenues of com-
merce in that region. They were the ' pathfind-
ers ' of the West, and not those later official ex-
plorers whom posterity so recognizes. No fea-
ture of western geography was ever discovered
by Government explorers after 1840. Every-
thing was already known, and had been for fully
a decade. It is true that many features, like the
Yellowstone wonderland, with which these rest-
less rovers were familiar, were afterward forgot-
ten and were re-discovered in later years ; but
there has never been a time until very recently
when the geography of the West was so thoroughly
understood as it was by the trader and trapper
from 1830 to 1840.

" This minute knowledge was of practical use
in many ways. When Brigham Young selected
the valley of Great Salt Lake as the future home
of his people, he did so largely upon information
derived from the traders. When the War with
Mexico came, the military forces of the United

10 INTRODUCTION

States invaded New Mexico under the guidance
of men who knew every trail and mountain pass
better than the most thorough reconnaissance
could have taught them. When the national
troops appeared before the gates of Santa Fe
they were met by a people who had already been
virtually won to the American cause through long
intercourse with the traders. When the rush of
emigration to California and Oregon followed, the
emigrants found a highway across the continent
already established. When the Government en-
tered in earnest upon the work of exploration, it
was the veteran mountaineer who was always
sought to do service as guide."

It is most unfortunate that there exists in
American literature no intimate and vivid account
of the western hunters and trappers by one who
had shared their camps and accompanied them
on trail and warpath. We have many stories of
their exploits, written in narrative form, with
scarce any dialogue or characterization. The men
themselves figure in such stories as little more
than lay figures in a historical museum. It is one
thing to describe events ; it is another thing to
make the actors in those events live and speak
in the reader's presence. Generally the contem-
porary annals of the fur trade are as dry as a
ship's log-book. The participants in those stir-
ring scenes could not write, and the men of their
time who could write lacked the experience.

INTRODUCTION 11

What American authors failed to do was ac-
complished by a young English sportsman and
explorer who lived among the trappers as one of
themselves and acquired their point of view. Al-
though not a professional writer, he was blest with
a knack of putting his experiences, and those of
his companions, so clearly before his readers that
one can visualize both men and deeds without
conscious effort. This man was George Freder-
ick Ruxton, formerly a lieutenant in her Maj-
esty's 89th Regiment.

In Blackwood's Magazine of 1848 there ap-
peared a serial by Ruxton entitled " Life in the
Far West." This story excited so much inter-
est that it was reprinted in book form, and went
through two editions. These are out of print,
and so the work is practically unknown to our
reading public.

" Life in the Far West " * is written in the form
of a thinly veiled romance; but the actors were
real, the incidents were real, and they were strung
together in a connected plot simply because that
was the most effective way to show character in
action. The story is not history, of course, but
neither is it fable. Nearly every page gives con-
vincing evidence of the author's intimate personal
knowledge of the scenes and characters portrayed.
He had scoured the continent from Canada to

* Here published as " In the Old West."

1£ INTRODUCTION

Mexico, from the Mississippi to the Pacific coast.
He had associated with many redoubtable charac-
ters of the old West — with men like Kit Carson,
Bill Williams, the Bents, the Sublettes, Joe Meek,
St. Vrain, Fitzpatrick, Killbuck, and La Bonte.
He was equally at home among Americans, Cana-
dians, Creoles, Mexicans, Spanish Californians,
and Indians. Each of these picturesque types he
has shown to the life. No narrative or formal his-
tory of that time has described the pioneers of the
Far West with such actual truth and fidelity.

The wildness of the adventures related by
Ruxton led many readers to suspect that they
were mere romance. The author replied, in a
letter to his publishers : —

" I think it would be well to correct a misap-
prehension as to the truth or fiction of the paper.
It is no -fiction. There is no incident in it which
has not actually occurred, nor one character who
is not well known in the Rocky Mountains, with
the exception of two whose names are changed."

Fully half of the names of Americans mentioned
in his book can be identified today with the men
who bore them. Again he wrote: —

" I have brought out a few more softening traits
in the characters of the mountaineers — but not
at the sacrifice of truth — for some of them have
their good points ; which, as they are rarely allowed
to rise to the surface, must be laid hold of at once
before they sink again. Killbuck — that * old

INTRODUCTION 13

hoss ' par exemple, was really pretty much of a
gentleman, as was La Bonte. Bill Williams,
another ' hard case,' and Rube Herring, were
6 some ' too.

66 The scene where La Bonte joins the Chase
family is so far true, that he did make a sudden
appearance j but, in reality, a day before the In-
dian attack. The Chases (and I wish I had not
given the proper name*) did start for the Platte
alone, and were stampeded upon the waters of
the Platte.

" The Mexican fandango is true to the letter.
It does seem difficult to understand how they con-
trived to keep their knives out of the hump-ribs
of the mountaineers ; but how can you account for
the fact, that, the other day, 4000 Mexicans, with
13 pieces of artillery, behind strong intrenchments
and two lines of parapets, were routed by 900
raw Missourians; 300 killed, as many more
wounded, all their artillery captured, as well as
several hundred prisoners ; and that not one
American was killed in the affair? This is positive
fact.

" I myself, with three trappers, cleared a fan-
dango at Taos, armed only with bowie-knives —

* In accordance with this suggestion, the name was
changed to Brand. The mountaineers, it seems, are more
sensitive to type than to tomahawks; and poor Ruxton, who
always contemplated another expedition among them, would
sometimes jestingly speculate upon his reception, should
they learn that he had shown them up in print.

14 INTRODUCTION

I

some score Mexicans, at least, being in the room.

" With regard to the incidents of Indian at-
tacks, starvation, cannibalism, &c., I have in-
vented not one out of my own head. They are all
matters of history in the mountains; but I have
no doubt jumbled the dramatis persona one with
another, and may have committed anachronisms."

Scholars may detect some inaccuracies here and
there, such as scarcely could be avoided by one
who wrote, as we may say, in the saddle ; but these
detract nothing from the essential verity of the
book. Ruxton's purpose was not to write a chron-
icle, but to exhibit vividly the mountain men and
the natives in relation to their environment. If
he wrought disconnected incidents into a continu-
ous story, and staged men together who may have
been a thousand miles apart at the time, it was
only because, to this extent, " fiction is the most
convincing way of telling the truth."

As the author of this book was himself a true
knight of the wilderness whose brief life was filled
with thrilling adventures, we append the follow-
ing memoir by one of his friends : —

" The London newspapers of October, 1848,
contained the mournful tidings of the death, at
St. Louis on the Mississippi, and at the early age
of twenty-eight, of Lieutenant George Frederick
Ruxton, formerly of her Majesty's 89th Regi-
ment, the author of the following1 sketches:

" Many men, even in the most enterprising

INTRODUCTION 15

periods of our history, have been made the sub-
jects of elaborate biography with far less title to
the honor than this lamented young officer. Time
was not granted him to embody in a permanent
shape a tithe of his personal experiences and
strange adventures in three quarters of the globe.
Considering, indeed, the amount of physical labor
he underwent, and the extent of the fields over
which his wanderings spread, it is almost sur-
prising he found leisure to write so much.

"At the early age of seventeen, Mr. Ruxton
quitted Sandhurst, to learn the practical part of
a soldier's profession in the civil wars of Spain.
He obtained a commission in a squadron of lan-
cers then attached to the division of General Diego
Leon, and was actively engaged in several of the
most important combats of the campaign. For
his marked gallantry on these occasions he re-
ceived from Queen Isabella II. the cross of the
first class of the Order of St. Fernando, an honor
which has seldom been awarded to one so young.

" On his return from Spain he found himself
gazetted to a commission in the 89th Regiment;
and it was whilst serving with that distinguished
corps in Canada that he first became acquainted
with the stirring scenes of Indian life, which he
has since so graphically portrayed. His eager
and enthusiastic spirit soon became wearied with
the monotony of the barrack-room ; and, yielding
to that impulse which in him was irresistibly de-

16 INTRODUCTION

veloped, he resigned his commission, and directed
his steps towards the stupendous wilds tenanted
only by the Red Indian, or by the solitary Ameri-
can trapper.

" Those familiar with Mr. Ruxtcn's writings
cannot fail to have remarked the singular delight
with which he dwells upon the recollections of this
portion of his career, and the longing which he car-
ried with him, to the hour of his death, for a re-
turn to those scenes of primitive freedom. ' Al-
though liable to an accusation of barbarism,' he
writes, ' I must confess that the very happiest mo-
ments of my life have been spent in the wilderness
of the Far West ; and I never recall but with pleas-
ure the remembrance of my solitary camp in the
Bayou Salade, with no friend near me more faith-
ful than my rifle, and no companions more sociable
than my good horse and mules, or the attendant
cayute which nightly serenaded us. With a plenti-
ful supply of dry pine-logs on the fire, and its
cheerful blaze streaming far up into the sky,
illuminating the valley far and near, and exhibit-
ing the animals, with well-filled bellies, standing
contentedly at rest over their picket-fire, I would
sit cross-legged, enjoying the genial warmth, and,
pipe in mouth, watch the blue smoke as it curled
upwards, building castles in its vapory wreaths,
and, in the fantastic shapes it assumed, peopling
the solitude with figures of those far away.
Scarcely, however, did I ever wish to change such

INTRODUCTION 17

hours of freedom for all the luxuries of civilized
life; and unnatural and extraordinary as it may
appear, yet such is the fascination of the life of
the mountain hunter, that I believe not one in-
stance could be adduced of even the most polished
and civilized of men, who had once tasted the
sweets of its attendant liberty, and freedom from
every worldly care, not regretting the moment
when he exchanged it for the monotonous life of
the settlements, nor sighing and sighing again
once more to partake of its pleasures and allure-
ments.'

" On his return to Europe from the Far West,
Mr. Ruxton, animated with a spirit as enterpris-
ing and fearless as that of Raleigh, planned a
scheme for the exploration of Central Africa, which
was thus characterized by the President of the
Royal Geographical Society, in his anniversary
address for 1845 : * To my great surprise, I re-
cently conversed with an ardent and accomplished
youth, Lieutenant Ruxton, late of the 89th Regi-
ment, who had formed the daring project of
traversing Africa in the parallel of the southern
tropic, and has actually started for this purpose.
Preparing himself by previous excursions on foot
in North Africa and Algeria, he sailed from Liver-
pool early in December last, in the Royalist, for
Ichaboe. From that spot he was to repair to
Walvish Bay, where we have already mercantile
establishments. The intrepid traveler had re-

18 INTRODUCTION

ceived from the agents of these establishments such
favorable accounts of the nations towards the in-
terior, as also of the nature of the climate, that
he has the most sanguine hopes of being able to
penetrate to the central region, if not of travers-
ing it to the Portuguese colonies of Mozambique.
If this be accomplished, then indeed will Lieuten-
ant Ruxton have acquired for himself a permanent
name among British travelers, by making us ac-
quainted with the nature of the axis of the great
continent of which we possess the southern ex-
tremity.'

" In pursuance of this hazardous scheme, Rux-
ton, with a single companion, landed on the coast
of Africa, a little to the south of Ichaboe, and
commenced his journey of exploration. But it
seemed as if both nature and man had combined
to baffle the execution of his design. The course
of their travel lay along a desert of moving sand,
where no water was to be found, and little herbage,
save a coarse tufted grass and twigs of the resinous
myrrh. The immediate place of their destination
was Angra Peguena, on the coast, described as a
frequented station, but which in reality was de-
serted. One ship only was in the offing when the
travelers arrived, and to their inexpressible morti-
fication they discovered that she was outward
bound. No trace was visible of the river or
streams laid down in the maps as falling into the
sea at this point, and no resource was left to the

INTRODUCTION 19

travelers save that of retracing their steps — a
labor for which their strength was hardly ade-
quate. But for the opportune assistance of a
body of natives, who encountered them at the very
moment when they were sinking from fatigue and
thirst, Ruxton and his companion would have been
added to the long catalogue of those whose lives
have been sacrificed in the attempt to explore the
interior of that fatal country.

" The jealousy of the traders, and of the mis-
sionaries settled on the African coast, who con-
stantly withheld or perverted that information
which was absolutely necessary for the successful
prosecution of the journey, induced Ruxton to
abandon the attempt for the present. He made,
however, several interesting excursions towards the
interior, and more especially in the country of
the Bosjesmans.

" Finding his own resources inadequate for the
accomplishment of his favorite project, Mr. Rux-
ton, on his return to England, made application
for Government assistance. But though this de-
mand was not altogether refused, it having been
referred to the Council of the Royal Geographical
Society, and favorably reported upon by that
body, so many delays interposed that Ruxton, in
disgust, resolved to withdraw from the scheme, and
to abandon the field of African research which he
had already contemplated from its borders.

" He next bent his steps to Mexico ; and, for-

20 INTRODUCTION

tunately, has presented to the world his reminis-
cences of that country, in one of the most fas-
cinating volumes which of late years has issued
from the press.

" It would however appear that the African
scheme, the darling project of his life, had again
recurred to him at a later period ; for in the course
of the present spring, before setting out on that
journey which was destined to be his last, the fol-
lowing expressions occur in one of his letters: —

" 4 My movements are uncertain, for I am try-
ing to get up a yacht voyage to Borneo and the
Indian Archipelago; have volunteered to Govern-
ment to explore Central Africa; and the Abori-
genes Protection Society wish me to go out to
Canada to organize the Indian tribes ; whilst, for
my own part and inclination, I wish to go to all
parts of the world at once.'

" His last letter, written just before his depar-
ture from England, a few weeks previous to his
death, will hardly be read by anyone who ever
knew the writer without a tear of sympathy for
the sad fate of this fine young man, dying miser-
ably in a strange land, before he had well com-
menced the hazardous journey whose excitement
and dangers he so joyously anticipated: —

" * As you say, human nature can't go on feed-
ing on civilized fixings in this big village ; and this
child has felt like going west for many a month,
being " half froze for buffler-meat and mountain

INTRODUCTION fcl

doin's." My route takes me via New York, the
Lakes, and St. Louis, to Fort Leavenworth or In-
dependence, on the Indian frontier. Thence, pack-
ing my " possibles " on a mule, and mounting a
buffalo horse (Panchito, if he is alive), I strike the
Santa Fe trail to the Arkansa, away up that river
to the mountains, winter in the Bayou Salade,
where Killbuck and La Bonte joined the Yutes,
cross the mountains next spring to Great Salt
Lake — and that's far enough to look forward to
— always supposing my hair is not lifted by
Comanche or Pawnee on the scalping route of the
Coon Creeks and Pawnee Fork.'

" Poor fellow ! he spoke lightly, in the buoyancy
of youth and a confident spirit, of the fate he little
thought to meet, but which too surely overtook
him — not indeed by Indian blade, but by the no
less deadly stroke of disease. Another motive, be-
sides that love of rambling and adventure which,
once conceived and indulged, is so difficult to erad-
icate, impelled him across the Atlantic. He had
for some time been out of health at intervals, and
he thought the air of his beloved prairies would be
efficacious to work a cure. In a letter to a friend,
in the month of May last, he thus referred to the
probable origin of the evil : —

" ' I have been confined to my room for many
days, from the effects of an accident I met with
in the Rocky Mountains, having been spilt from

22 INTRODUCTION

the bare back of a mule, and falling on the sharp
picket of an Indian lodge on the small of my back.
I fear I injured my spine, for I have never felt al-
together the thing since, and, shortly after I saw
you, the symptoms became rather ugly. However,
I am now getting round again.'

" His medical advisers shared his opinion that
he had sustained internal injury from this ugly
fall; and it is not improbable that it was the re-
mote, but real cause of his dissolution. From
whatsoever this ensued, it will be a source of deep
and lasting regret to all who ever enjoyed oppor-
tunities of appreciating the high and sterling quali-
ties of George Frederick Ruxton. Few men, so
prepossessing on first acquaintance, gained so
much by being better known. With great natural
abilities and the most dauntless bravery, he united
a modesty and gentleness peculiarly pleasing.

" Had he lived, and resisted his friends' re-
peated solicitations to abandon a roving life and
settle down in England, there can be little doubt
that he would have made his name eminent on the
lists of those daring and persevering men, whose
travels in distant and dangerous lands have ac-
cumulated for England, and for the world, so rich
a store of scientific and general information. And
although the few words it has been thought right
and becoming here to devote to his memory, will
doubtless be more particularly welcome to his per-

INTRODUCTION 23

sonal friends, we are persuaded that none will pe-
ruse without interest this brief tribute to the merits
of a gallant soldier and accomplished English
gentleman."

In the present edition no liberties have been
taken with the text except by correcting a few
obvious errors, and making the spelling conform
to American usage. Footnotes by the present
editor are marked (Ed) ; those unsigned are by
Ruxton himself.

One useful purpose that this book may serve is
to give professional hunters and trappers their
due as hard working men. From time immemorial
it has been the fashion to look down upon their ilk
as lazy vagabonds " too trifling to work for a liv-
ing." Such is the almost universal opinion of
people who never have taken a big game hunt them-
selves, never even have seen hunters at work in the
wilderness, but know them only as they take their
well-earned ease after an exhausting chase.

" The lazy hunter " is the most misjudged of
men; for really there is no harder labor than the
pursuit of wild animals for a livelihood. The
libelous epithet perhaps came in vogue from the
fact that hunting and trapping are apt to unfit
a man for settled habits of industry. Or it may
have come from observing the whole-souled enjoy-
ment with which the hunter pursues his occupa-
tion. We have not yet got rid of the Puritan no-
tion that no effort is worthy unless it is painful

34 INTRODUCTION

to the spirit. The freeman of the woods calls
his labor sport, and he laughs, in retrospect, at all
the cruel toil, the starving and freezing and broken
bones. Being utterly independent he seldom does
things that " go against the grain," save as he is
driven by necessity. But how sharp was the lash
of that necessity, how often it stung body and soul,
how many a hunter " went under," even in the old
days when game was in the greatest abundance,
is shown with perfect fidelity to truth in this pic-
ture of " Life in the Far West."

HORACE KEPHAET.

IN THE OLD WEST

IN THE OLD WEST

CHAPTER I

AWAY to the head-waters of the Platte,
where several small streams run into the
south fork of that river, and head in the
broken ridges of the " Divide " which separates
the valleys of the Platte and the Arkansa, were
camped a band of trappers on a creek called
Bijou. It was the month of October, when the
early frosts of the coming winter had crisped and
dyed with sober brown the leaves of the cherry
and quaking ash belting the brooks; and the
ridges and peaks of the Rocky Mountains were
already covered with a glittering mantle of snow,
sparkling in the still powerful rays of the autumn
sun.

The camp had all the appearance of per-
manency; for not only did it comprise one or
two unusually comfortable shanties, but the
numerous stages on which huge strips of buffalo-
meat were hanging in process of cure, showed
that the party had settled themselves here in
order to lay in a store of provisions, or, as it is
termed in the language of the mountains, " to

27

28 IN THE OLD WEST

make meat." Round the camp fed twelve or fif-
teen mules and horses, their fore-legs confined by
hobbles of rawhide; and, guarding these animals,
two men paced backwards and forwards, driving
in the stragglers, ascending ever and anon the
bluffs which overhung the river, and leaning on
their long rifles, whilst they swept with their eyes
the surrounding prairie. Three or four fires
burned in the encampment, at some of which
Indian women carefully tended sundry steaming
pots ; whilst round one, which was in the center
of it, four or five stalwart hunters, clad in buck-
skin, sat cross-legged, pipe in mouth.

They were a trapping party from the north
fork of Platte, on their way to wintering-ground
in the more southern valley of the Arkansa ; some,
indeed, meditating a more extended trip, even to
the distant settlements of New Mexico, the para-
dise of mountaineers. The elder of the company
was a tall gaunt man, with a face browned by
twenty years' exposure to the extreme climate of
the mountains ; his long black hair, as yet scarcely
tinged with gray, hanging almost to his shoul-
ders, but his cheeks and chin clean shaven, after
the fashion of the mountain-men. His dress was
the usual hunting-frock of buckskin, with long
fringes down the seams, with pantaloons similarly
ornamented, and moccasins of Indian make.
Whilst his companions puffed their pipes in si-
lence, he narrated a few of his former experi-

IN THE OLD WEST 29

ences of western life ; and whilst the buffalo hump-
ribs and tenderloin are singing away in the pot,
preparing for the hunters' supper, we will note
down the yarn as it spins from his lips, giving it
in the language spoken in the " Far West " : —

" 'Twas about calf-time, maybe a little later,
and not a hundred year ago by a long chalk, that
the biggest kind of rendezvous was held ' to ' to
Independence, a mighty handsome little location
away up on old Missoura. A pretty smart lot
of boys was camped thar, about a quarter from
the town, and the way the whisky flowed that
time was some now, / can tell you. Thar was old
Sam Owins — him as got rubbed out * by the
Spaniards at Sacramenty, or Chihuahuy, this hoss
doesn't know which, but he went under f any-
how. Well, Sam had his train along, ready to
hitch up for the Mexican country — twenty thun-
derin' big Pittsburgh wagons; and the way his
Santa Fe boys took in the liquor beat all — eh,
Bill? "

" Well, it did."

" Bill Bent — his boys camped the other side
the trail, and they was all mountain-men, wagh !
— and Bill Williams, and Bill Tharpe (the
Pawnees took his hair on Pawnee Fork last
spring) : three Bills, and them three's all gone
under. Surely Hatcher went out that time; and

* Killed, "1 both terms adapted from the Indian figura-
fDied, J tive language.

30 IN THE OLD WEST

wasn't Bill Garey along, too? Didn't him and
Chabonard sit in camp for twenty hours at a deck
of euker? Them was Bent's Indian traders up on
Arkansa. Poor Bill Bent! them Spaniards made
meat of him. He lost his topknot to Taos. A
clever man was Bill Bent as / ever know'd trade
a robe or throw a bufler in his tracks. Old St.
Vrain could knock the hind-sight off him though,
when it came to shootin', and old Silverheels spoke
true, she did: * plumcenter ' she was, eh? "

" Well, she wasn't nothin' else."

" The Greasers * paid for Bent's scalp, they tell
me. Old St. Vrain went out of Santa Fe with a
company of mountain-men, and the way they made
'em sing out was slick as shootin'. He * counted
a coup,' did St. Vrain. He throwed a Pueblo as
had on poor Bent's shirt. I guess he tickled that
nigger's hump-ribs. Fort William f ain't the
lodge it was, an' never will be agin, now he's gone
under ; but St. Vrain's ' pretty much of a gentle-
man,' too; if he ain't, I'll be dog-gone — eh,
Bill?"

" He is so-o."

" Chavez had his wagons along. He was only
a Spaniard anyhow, and some of his teamsters
put a ball into him his next trip, and made a raise
of his dollars, wagh! Uncle Sam hung 'em for

*The Mexicans are called "Spaniards" or "Greasers"
(from their greasy appearance) by the Western people,
t Bent's Indian trading fort on the Arkansa.

IN THE OLD WEST Si

it, I heard, but can't b'lieve it, nohow. If them
Spaniards wasn't born for shootin', why was
beaver made? You was with us that spree,
Jemmy ? "

" No svrre-e; I went out when Spiers lost his
animals on Cimmaron: a hundred and forty mules
and oxen was froze that night, wagh ! "

" Surely Black Harris was thar ; and the
darndest liar was Black Harris — for lies tumbled
out of his mouth like boudins out of a bufler's
stomach. He was the child as saw the putrefied
forest in the Black Hills. Black Harris come in
from Laramie; he'd been trapping three year an'
more on Platte and the other side; and, when he
got into Liberty, he fixed himself right off like
a Saint Louiy dandy. Well, he sat to dinner one
day in the tavern, and a lady says to him —

" ' Well, Mister Harris, I hear you're a great
trav'ler.'

" * Trav'ler, marm,5 says Black Harris, * this
nigger's no trav'ler; I ar' a trapper, marm, a
mountain-man, wagh ! '

" ' Well, Mister Harris, trappers are great
trav'lers, and you goes over a sight of ground in
your perishinations, I'll be bound to say.'

" * A sight, marm, this coon's gone over, if
that's the way your stick floats.* I've trapped
beaver on Platte and Arkansa, and away up on

* Meaning — if that's what you mean. The "stick" is
tied to the beaver-trap by a string, and, floating on the

m IN THE OLD WEST

Missoura and Yaller Stone; I've trapped on Col-
umbia, on Lewis Fork, and Green River; I've
trapped, marm, on Grand River and the Heely

(Gila). I've fout the Blackfoot (and d d

bad Injuns they are) ; I've raised the hair * of
more than one Apach, and made a Rapaho ' come '
afore now; I've trapped in heav'n, in airth, and
h — ; and scalp my old head, marm, but I've seen
a putrefied forest.'

" ' La, Mister Harris, a what ? '

" ' A putrefied forest, marm, as sure as my
rifle's got hind-sights, and she shoots center. I
was out on the Black Hills, Bill Sublette knows
the time — the year it rained fire — and every-
body knows when that was. If thar wasn't cold
doins about that time, this child wouldn't say so.
The snow was about fifty foot deep, and the bufler
lay dead on the ground like bees after a beein';
not whar we was tho', for thar was no bufler, and
no meat, and me and my band had been livin'
on our moccasins (leastwise the parflesh f) for
six weeks ; and poor doins that feedin' is, marm,
as you'll never know. One day we crossed a
canon and over a divide, and got into a peraira,
whar was green grass, and green trees, and green
leaves on the trees, and birds singing in the green

water, points out its position, should a beaver have carried
it away.

* Scalped.

f Soles made of buffalo hide.

IN THE OLD WEST 33

leaves, and this in Febrary, wagh ! Our animals
was like to die when they see the green grass, and
we all sung out, " Hurraw for summer doins."

" ' " Hyar goes for meat," says I, and I jest ups
old Ginger at one of them singing-birds, and down
come the crittur elegant ; its darned head spinning
away from the body, but never stops singing;
and when I takes up the meat, I finds it stone,
wagh ! " Hyar's damp powder and no fire to dry
it," I says, quite skeared.

" ' " Fire be dogged," says old Rube. " Hyar's
a hoss, as'll make fire come," and with that he
takes his axe and lets drive at a cotton wood.
Schr-u-k — goes the axe agin the tree, and out
comes a bit of the blade as big as my hand. We
looks at the animals, and thar they stood shak-
ing over the grass, which I'm dog-gone if it wasn't
stone, too. Young Sublette comes up, and he'd
been clerking down to the fort on Platte, so he
know'd something. He looks and looks, and
scrapes the trees with his butcher knife, and
snaps the grass like pipe-stems, and breaks the
leaves a-snappin5 like Californy shells.

"'" What's all this, boy?" I asks.

" * " Putrefactions," says he, looking smart ;
" putrefactions, or I'm a nigger." '

" ' La, Mister Harris,' says the lady, ' putre-
factions ! why, did the leaves and the trees and the
grass smell badly?'

" ' Smell badly, marm ! ' says Black Harris ;

34 IN THE OLD WEST

'would a skunk stink if he was froze to stone?
No, marm, this child didn't know what putrefac-
tion was, and young Sublette's varsion wouldn't
shine nohow, so I chips a piece out of a tree and
puts it in my trap-sack, and carries it in safe to
Laramie. Well, old Captain Stewart (a clever
man was that, though he was an Englishman), he
comes along next spring, and a Dutch doctor
chap was along too. I shows him the piece I
chipped out of the tree, and he called it a putre-
faction too ; and so, marm, if that wasn't a putre-
fied peraira, what was it? For this hoss doesn't
know, and he knows fat cow from poor bull, any-
how.'

" Well, old Black Harris is gone under too, I
believe. He went to the Parks trapping with a
Vide Poche Frenchman, who shot him for his bacca
and traps. Darn them Frenchmen, they're no ac-
count any way you lays your sight. (Any bacca
in your bag, Bill? this beaver feels like chawing.)

" Well, anyhow, thar was the camp, and they
was goin' to put out the next morning; and the
last as come out of Independence was that ar
Englishman. He'd a nor-west * capote on, and
a two-shoot gun rifled. Well, them English are
darned fools ; they can't fix a rifle any ways ; but

* The Hudson's Bay Company, having amalgamated with
the American North-West Company, is known by the name
"North-West" to the southern trappers. Their employe's
usually wear Canadian capotes.

IN THE OLD WEST 35

that one did shoot some; leastwise Tie made it
throw plum-center. He made the bufler come,
Tie did, and fout well at Pawnee Fork too. What
was his name? All the boys called him Cap'en,
and he got his fixings from old Choteau ; but what
he wanted out thar in the mountains, I never jest
rightly know'd. He was no trader, nor a trap-
per, and flung about his dollars right smart.
Thar was old grit in him, too, and a hair of the
black b'ar at that.* They say he took the bark
off the Shians when he cleared out of the village
with old Beavertail's squaw. He'd been on Yal-
ler Stone afore that: Leclerc know'd him in the
Blackfoot, and up in the Chippeway country;
and he had the best powder as ever I flashed
through life, and his gun was handsome, that's
a fact. Them thar locks was grand; and old
Jake Hawken's nephey (him as trapped on Heeley
that time) told me, the other day, as he saw an
English gun on Arkansa last winter as beat all
off hand.

" Nigh upon two hundred dollars I had in my
possibles, when I went to that camp to see the
boys afore they put out; and you know, Bill, as
I sat to euchre and seven up till every cent was
gone.

" ' Take back twenty, old coon,' says Big John.

" c H — 's full of such takes back,' says I ; and
I puts back to town and fetches the rifle and the
*A spice of the devil.

36 IN THE OLD WEST

old mule, puts my traps into the sack, gets credit
for a couple of pounds of powder at Owin's store,
and hyar I ar on Bijou, with half a pack of beaver,
and running meat yet, old hoss ; so put a log on,
and let's have a smoke.

" Hurraw, Jake, old coon, bear a hand, and let
the squaw put them tails in the pot; for sun's
down, and we'll have to put out pretty early to
reach Black Tail by this time to-morrow. Who's
fust guard, boys? them cussed Rapahos will be
after the animals to-night, or I'm no judge of
Injun sign. How many did you see, Maurice? "

" Enfant de garce, me see bout honderd, when
I pass Squirrel Creek, one dam water-party,
parceque they no hosses, and have de lariats for
steal des animaux. Maybe de Yutas in Bayou
Salade."

" We'll be having trouble to-night, I'm think-
ing, if the devils are about. Whose band was it,
Maurice? "

" Slim-Face — • I see him ver close — is out ;
mais I think it White Wolf's."

" White Wolf, maybe, will lose his hair if he and
his band knock round here too often. That In-
jun put me afoot when we was out on Sandy
that fall. This nigger owes him one, anyhow."

" H— 's full of White Wolves : go ahead, and
roll out some of your doins across the plains that
time."

" You seed sights that spree, eh, boy ? "

IN THE OLD WEST S7

" Well, we did. Some of 'em got their flints
fixed this side of Pawnee Fork, and a heap of
mule-meat went wolfing. Just by Little Arkansa
we saw the first Injun. Me and young Somes
was ahead for meat, and I had hobbled the old
mule and was approaching some goats,* when I
see the critturs turn back their heads and jump
right away from me. ' Hurraw, Dick ! ' I shouts,

* hyar's brown-skin acomin', and off I makes for
the mule. The young greenhorn sees the goats
runnin' up to him, and not being up to Injun ways,
blazes at the first and knocks him over. Jest
then seven darned red heads top the bluff, and
seven Pawnees come a-screechin' upon us. I cuts
the hobbles and jumps on the mule, and, when I
looks back, there was Dick Somes ramming a ball
down his gun like mad, and the Injuns flinging
their arrows at him pretty smart, I tell you.

* Hurraw, Dick, mind your hair,' and I ups old
Greaser and let one Injun ' have it,' as was going
plum into the boy with his lance. He turned on
his back handsome, and Dick gets the ball down
at last, blazes away, and drops another. Then
we charged on 'em, and they clears off like runnin'
cows ; and I takes the hair off the heads of the two
we made meat of; and I do b'lieve thar's some of
them scalps on my old leggings yet.

" Well, Dick was as full of arrows as a porky-

* Antelope are frequently called "goats" by the moun-
taineers.

88 IN THE OLD WEST

pine; one was sticking right through his cheek,
one in his meat-bag, and two more 'bout his hump-
ribs. I tuk 'em all out slick, and away we go
to camp (for they was jost a-campin' when we
went ahead), and carryin' the goat too. Thar
was a hurroo when we rode in with the scalps
at the end of our guns. ' Injuns ! Injuns ! ' was
the cry from the greenhorns ; ' we'll be 'tacked
to-night, that's certain.'

" < 'Tacked be — — ,' says old Bill ; ' ain't we
men too, and white at that? Look to your guns,
boys ; send out a strong hoss-guard with the ani-
mals, and keep your eyes skinned.'

" Well, as soon as the animals were unhitched
from the wagons, the guvner sends out a strong
guard, seven boys, and old hands at that. It
was pretty nigh upon sundown, and Bill had just
sung out to corral. The boys were drivin' in
the animals, and we were all standing round to
get 'em in slick, when, ' howgh-owgh-owgh-owgh,'
we hears right behind the bluff, and 'bout a minute
and a perfect crowd of Injuns gallops down upon
the animals. Wagh ! warn't thar hoopin' ! We
jump for the guns, but before we get to the fires,
the Injuns were among the cavayard. I saw
Ned Collyer and his brother, who were in the hoss-
guard, let drive at 'em; but twenty Pawnees were
round 'em before the smoke cleared from their
rifles; and when the crowd broke, the two boys
were on the ground and their hair gone. Well,

IN THE OLD WEST 39

that ar Englishman just saved the cavayarcf.
He had his horse, a regular buffalo-runner, pick-
eted round the fire quite handy, and as soon as he
sees the fix, he jumps upon her and rides right
into the thick of the mules, and passes through
'em, firing his two-shoot gun at the Injuns ; and,
by gor, he made two come. The mules, which
was a-snortin' with funk and running before the
Injuns, as soon as they see the Englishman's
mare (mules '11 go to h — after a horse, you all
know), followed her right into the corral, and
thar they was safe. Fifty Pawnees came screechin'
after 'em, but we was ready that time, and the
way we throw'd 'em was something handsome, I
tell you. But three of the hoss-guard got
skeared — leastwise their mules did, and carried
'em off into the per air a, and the Injuns, having
enough of us, dashed after 'em right away. Them
poor devils looked back miserable now, with about
a hundred red varmints tearin' after their hair,
and whooping like mad. Young Jem Bulcher was
the last ; and when he seed it was no use, and his
time was nigh, he throw'd himself off the mule,
and standing as upright as a hickory wiping-stick,
he waves his hand to us, and blazes away at the
first Injun as come up, and dropped him slick;
but the moment after, you may guess, he died.

" We could do nothin', for, before our guns
were loaded, all three were dead and their scalps
gone. Five of our boys got rubbed out that time,

40 IN THE OLD WEST

and seven Injuns lay wolf's meat, while a many
more went away gut-shot, I'll lay. Hows'ever,
five of us went under, and the Pawnees made a raise
of a dozen mules, wagh ! "

Thus far, in his own words, we have accom-
panied the old hunter in his tale; and probably
he would have taken us, by the time that the
Squaw Chilipat had pronounced the beaver-tails
cooked, safely across the grand prairies — ford-
ing Cotton Wood, Turkey Creek, Little Arkansa,
Walnut Creek, and Pawnee Fork — passed the fire-
less route of the Coon Creeks, through a sea of
fat buffalo-meat, without fuel to cook it; have
struck the big river, and, leaving at the Crossing
the wagons destined for Santa Fe, have trailed us
up the Arkansa to Bent's Fort ; thence up Boiling
Spring, across the divide over to the southern
fork of the Platte, away up to the Black Hills,
and finally camped us, with hair still preserved,
in the beaver-abounding valleys of the Sweet
Water, and Cache la Poudre, under the rugged
shadow of the Wind River Mountains; if it had
not so happened, at this juncture, as all our moun-
taineers sat cross-legged round the fire, pipe in
mouth, and with Indian gravity listened to the
yarn of the old trapper, interrupting him only
with an occasional wagh ! or with the exclamations
of some participator in the events then under
narration, who would every now and then put in
a corroborative, — " This child remembers that

IN THE OLD WEST 4rl

fix," or, " hyar's a nigger lifted hair that spree,"
&c. — that a whizzing noise was heard in the air,
followed by a sharp but suppressed cry from one
of the hunters.

In an instant the mountaineers had sprung
from their seats, and, seizing the ever-ready rifle,
each one had thrown himself on the ground a few
paces beyond the light of the fire (for it was now
nightfall) ; but not a word escaped them, as, ly-
ing close, with their keen eyes directed towards
the gloom of the thicket, near which the camp was
placed, with rifles cocked, they waited a renewal
of the attack. Presently the leader of the band,
no other than Killbuck, who had so lately been
recounting some of his experiences across the
plains, and than whom no more crafty woodsman
or more expert trapper ever tracked a deer or
grained a beaver-skin, raised his tall leather-clad
form, and, placing his hand over his mouth, made
the prairie ring with the wild protracted note
of an Indian war-whoop. This was instantly re-
peated from the direction where the animals be-
longing to the camp were grazing, under the
charge of the horse-guard. Three shrill whoops
answered the warning of the leader, and showed
that the guard was on the watch, and understood
the signal. However, with the manifestation of
their presence, the Indians appeared to be satis-
fied ; or, what is more probable, the act of aggres-
sion had been committed by some daring young

42 IN THE OLD WEST

warrior, who, being out on his first expedition,
desired to strike the first coup, and thus signalize
himself at the outset of the campaign. After
waiting some few minutes, expecting a renewal of
the attack, the mountaineers in a body rose from
the ground and made towards the animals, with
which they presently returned to the camp ; and
after carefully hobbling and securing them to
pickets firmly driven into the ground, mounting
an additional guard, and examining the neighbor-
ing thicket, they once more assembled round the
fire, relit their pipes, and puffed away the cheer-
ing weed as composedly as if no such being as a
Redskin, thirsting for their lives, was within a
thousand miles of their perilous encampment.

" If ever thar was bad Injuns on these plains,"
at last growled Killbuck, biting hard the pipe-
stem between his teeth, " it's these Rapahos, and
the meanest kind at that."

" Can't beat the Blackfeet, anyhow," chimed
in one La Bonte, from the Yellow Stone country,
•a fine handsome specimen of a mountaineer.
66 However, one of you quit this arrow out of my
hump," he continued, bending forwards to the fire,
and exhibiting an arrow sticking out under his
right shoulder-blade, and a stream of blood tric-
kling down his buckskin coat from the wound.

This his nearest neighbor essayed to do ; but
finding, after a tug, that it " would not come,"
expressed his opinion that the offending weapon

IN THE OLD WEST 43

would have to be "butchered" out. This was
accordingly effected with the ready blade of a
scalp-knife; and a handful of beaver-fur being
placed on the wound, and secured by a strap of
buckskin round the body, the wounded man donned
his hunting-shirt once more, and coolly set about
lighting his pipe, his rifle lying across his lap
cocked and ready for use.

It was now near midnight — dark and misty ;
and the clouds, rolling away to the eastward from
the lofty ridges of the Rocky Mountains, were
gradually obscuring the dim starlight. As the
lighter vapors faded from the mountains, a thick
black cloud succeeded them, and settled over the
loftier peaks of the chain, faintly visible through
the gloom of night, whilst a mass of fleecy scud
soon overspread the whole sky. A hollow moan-
ing sound crept through the valley, and the upper
branches of the cotton woods, with their withered
leaves, began to rustle with the first breath of
the coming storm. Huge drops of rain fell at
intervals, hissing as they dropped into the blazing
fires, and pattering on the skins with which the
hunters hurriedly covered the exposed baggage.
The mules near the camp cropped the grass with
quick and greedy bites round the circuit of their
pickets, as if conscious that the storm would soon
prevent their feeding, and already humped their
backs as the chilling rain fell upon their flanks.
The prairie wolves crept closer to the camp, and

44 IN THE OLD WEST

in the confusion that ensued from the hurry of
the trappers to cover the perishable portions of
their equipment, contrived more than once to dart
off with a piece of meat, when their peculiar and
mournful chiding would be heard as they fought
for the possession of the ravished morsel.

When everything was duly protected, the men
set to work to spread their beds ; those who had
not troubled themselves to erect a shelter, getting
under the lee of the piles of packs and saddles ;
whilst Killbuck, disdaining even such care of his
carcass, threw his buffalo robe on the bare ground,
declaring his intention to " take " what was com-
ing at all hazards, and " anyhow." Selecting a
high spot, he drew his knife and proceeded to
cut drains round it, to prevent the water running
into him as he lay; then taking a single robe, he
carefully spread it, placing under the end furthest
from the fire a large stone brought from the
creek. Having satisfactorily adjusted this pil-
low, he added another robe to the one already laid,
and placed over all a Navajo blanket, supposed
to be impervious to rain. Then he divested him-
self of his pouch and powder-horn, which, with
his rifle, he placed inside his bed, and quickly cov-
ered up lest the wet should reach them. Hav-
ing performed these operations to his satisfaction,
he lighted his pipe by the hissing embers of the
half-extinguished fire (for by this time the rain
poured in torrents), and went the rounds of the

IN THE OLD WEST 45

picketed animals, cautioning the guard round the
camp to keep their " eyes skinned, for there would
be powder burned before morning." Then return-
ing to the fire, and kicking with his moccasined
foot the slumbering ashes, he squatted down be-
fore it, and thus soliloquized: —

" Thirty year have I been knocking about these
mountains from Missoura's head as far sothe as
the starving Gila. I've trapped a heap,* and
many a hundred pack of beaver I've traded in my
time, wagh! What has come of it, and whar's
the dollars as ought to be in my possibles?
Whar's the ind of this, I say? Is a man to be
hunted by Injuns all his days? Many's the time
I've said I'd strike for Taos, and trap a squaw,
for this child's getting old, and feels like wanting
a woman's face about his lodge for the balance of
his days; but when it comes to caching of the
old traps, I've the smallest kind of heart, I have.
Certain, the old State comes across my mind now
and again, but who's thar to remember my old
body? But them diggings gets too overcrowded
nowadays, and it's hard to fetch breath amongst
them big bands of corncrackers to Missoura. Be-
side, it goes against natur' to leave bufler-meat
and feed on hog; and them white gals are too
much like picturs, and a deal too ' fofarraw '

* An Indian is always " a heap " hungry or thirsty —
loves "a heap" — is "a heap" brave; in fact, "a heap"
is tantamount to very much.

46 IN THE OLD WEST

(fanfaron). No; darn the settlements, I say.
It won't shine, and whar's the dollars? Hows'-
ever, beaver's bound to rise; human natur' can't
go on selling beaver a dollar a pound ; no, no, that
arn't a going to shine much longer, I know.
Them was the times when this child first went to
the mountains : six dollars the plew — old 'un or
kitten! Wagh! but it's bound to rise, I says
agin; and hyar's a coon knows whar to lay his
hand on a dozen pack right handy, and then he'll
take the Taos trail, wagh ! "

Thus soliloquizing, Killbuck knocked the ashes
from his pipe, and placed it in the gaily orna-
mented case that hung round his neck, drew his
knife-belt a couple of holes tighter, resumed his
pouch and powder-horn, took his rifle, which he
carefully covered with the folds of his Navajo
blanket, and, striding into the darkness, cautiously
reconnoitered the vicinity of the camp. When he
returned to the fire he sat himself down as before,
but this time with his rifle across his lap ; and at
intervals his keen gray eyes glanced piercingly
around, particularly towards an old weather-
beaten and grizzled mule, who now, old stager
as she was, having filled her belly, stood lazily
over her picket-pin, with her head bent down and
her long ears flapping over her face, her limbs
gathered under her, and her back arched to throw
off the rain, tottering from side to side as she
rested and slept.

IN THE OLD WEST 47

" Yep, old gal ! " cried Killbuck to the animal,
at the same time picking a piece of burnt wood
from the fire and throwing it at her, at which the
mule gathered itself up and cocked her ears as
she recognized her master's voice. " Yep, old gal !
and keep your nose open ; thar's brown skin about,
I'm thinkin', and maybe you'll get roped (lasso'd)
by a Rapaho afore mornin'." Again the old
trapper settled himself before the fire; and soon
his head began to nod, as drowsiness stole over
him. Already he was in the land of dreams ; rev-
elling amongst bands of " fat cow," or hunting
along a stream well peopled with beaver; with no
Indian " sign " to disturb him, and the merry
rendezvous in close perspective, and his peltry
selling briskly at six dollars the plew, and galore
of alcohol to ratify the trade. Or, perhaps,
threading the back trail of his memory, he passed
rapidly through the perilous vicissitudes of his
hard, hard life — starving one day, reveling in
abundance the next ; now beset by whooping sav-
ages thirsting for his blood, baying his enemies
like the hunted deer, but with the unflinching
courage of a man ; now, all care thrown aside,
secure and forgetful of the past, a welcome guest
in the hospitable trading fort; or back, as the
trail gets fainter, to his childhood's home in the
brown forests of old Kentuck, tended and cared
for — his only thought to enjoy the hominy and
johnny cakes of his thrifty mother. Once more,

48 IN THE OLD WEST

in warm and well-remembered homespun, he sits
on the snake-fence round the old clearing, and,
munching his hoe-cake at set of sun, listens to the
mournful note of the whip-poor-will, or the harsh
cry of the noisy catbird, or watches the agile gam-
bols of the squirrels as they chase each other,
chattering the while, from branch to branch of
the lofty tamarisks, wondering how long it will
be before he will be able to lift his father's heavy
rifle, and use it against the tempting game.
Sleep, however, sat lightly on the eyes of the wary
mountaineer, and a snort from the old mule in an
instant stretched his every nerve. Without a
movement of his body, his keen eye fixed itself
upon the mule, which now stood with head bent
round, and eyes and ears pointed in one direction,
snuffing the night air and snorting with apparent
fear. A low sound from the wakeful hunter
roused the others from their sleep; and raising
their bodies from their well-soaked beds, a single
word apprised them of their danger.

" Injuns ! "

Scarcely was the word out of Killbuck's lips,
when, above the howling of the furious wind and
the pattering of the rain, a hundred savage yells
broke suddenly upon their ears from all directions
round the camp ; a score of rifle-shots rattled from
the thicket, and a cloud of arrows whistled
through the air, whilst a crowd of Indians charged
upon the picketed animals. " Owgh ! owgh —

IN THE OLD WEST 49

owgh — owgh — g-h-h ! " "A foot, by gor ! "
shouted Killbuck, " and the old mule gone at that.
On 'em, boys, for old Kentuck ! " And he rushed
towards his mule, which jumped and snorted mad
with fright, as a naked Indian strove to fasten a
lariat round her nose, having already cut the rope
which fastened her to the picket-pin.

" Quit that, you cussed devil ! " roared the trap-
per, as he jumped upon the savage, and, without
raising his rifle to his shoulder, made a deliberate
thrust with the muzzle at his naked breast, strik-
ing him full, and at the same time pulling the trig-
ger, actually driving the Indian two paces back-
wards with the shock, when he fell in a heap, and
dead. But at the same moment, an Indian, sweep-
ing his club round his head, brought it with fright-
ful force down upon Killbuck. For a moment the
hunter staggered, threw out his arms wildly into
the air, and fell headlong to the ground.

" Owgh ! owgh, owgh-h-h ! " cried the Rapaho,
and, striding over the prostrate body, he seized
with his left hand the middle lock of the trapper's
long hair, and drew his knife round the head to sep-
arate the scalp from the skull. As he bent over to
his work, the trapper named La Bonte saw his
companion's peril, rushed quick as thought at the
Indian, and buried his knife to the hilt between
his shoulders. With a gasping shudder the
Rapaho fell dead upon the prostrate body of his
foe.

SO IN THE OLD WEST

The attack, however, lasted but a few seconds.
The dash at the animals had been entirely suc-
cessful, and, driving them before them with loud
cries, the Indians disappeared quickly in the dark-
ness. Without waiting for daylight, two of the
three trappers who alone were to be seen, and
who had been within the shanties at the time of
attack, without a moment's delay commenced
packing two horses, which having been fastened
to the shanties had escaped the Indians, and, plac-
ing their squaws upon them, showering curses and
imprecations on their enemies, left the camp, fear-
ful of another onset, and resolved to retreat and
cache themselves until the danger was over. Not
so La Bonte, who, stout and true, had done his
best in the fight, and now sought the body of his
old comrade, from which, before he could examine
the wounds, he had first to remove the corpse of
the Indian he had slain. Killbuck still breathed.
He had been stunned; but, revived by the cold
rain beating upon his face, he soon opened his
eyes, and recognized his trusty friend, who, sitting
down, lifted his head into his lap, and wiped away
the blood that streamed from the wounded scalp.

"Is the top-knot gone, boy?" asked Killbuck;
" for my head feels queersome, I tell you."

" Thar's the Injun as felt like lifting it," an-
swered the other, kicking the dead body with his
foot.

"Wagh! boy, you've struck a coup; so scalp

IN THE OLD WEST 51

the nigger right off, and then fetch me a drink."
The morning broke clear and cold. With the
exception of a light cloud which hung over Pike's
Peak, the sky was spotless; and a perfect calm
had succeeded the boisterous storm of the pre-
vious night. The creek was swollen and turbid
with the rains ; and as La Bonte proceeded a little
distance down the bank to find a passage to the
water, he suddenly stopped short, and an involun-
tary cry escaped him. Within a few feet of the
bank lay the body of one of his companions, who
had formed the guard at the time of the Indians'
attack. It was lying on the face, pierced through
the chest with an arrow which was buried to the
very feathers, and the scalp torn from the bloody
skull. Beyond, but all within a hundred yards,
lay the three others, dead, and similarly mutilated.
So certain had been the aim, and so close the
enemy, that each had died without a struggle, and
consequently had been unable to alarm the camp.
La Bonte, with a glance at the bank, saw at once
that the wily Indians had crept along the creek,
the noise of the storm facilitating their approach
undiscovered, and, crawling up the bank, had
watched their opportunity to shoot simultaneously
the four hunters on guard.

Returning to Killbuck, he apprised him of the
melancholy fate of their companions, and held a
council of war as to their proceedings. The old
hunter's mind was soon made up. " First," said

52 IN THE OLD WEST

he, " I get back my old mule ; she's carried me and
my traps these twelve j^ears, and I ain't a-goin' to
lose her yet. Second, I feel like taking hair, and
some Rapahos has to go under for this night's
work. Third, we have got to cache the beaver.
Fourth, we take the Injun trail, wharever it
leads."

No more daring mountaineer than La Bonte
ever trapped a beaver, and no counsel could have
more exactly tallied with his own inclination than
the law laid down by old Killbuck.

" Agreed," was his answer, and forthwith he set
about forming a cache. In this instance they had
not sufficient time to construct a regular one, so
they contented themselves with securing their
packs of beaver in buffalo robes, and tying them
in the forks of several cotton-woods, under which
the camp had been made. This done, they lit a
fire, and cooked some buffalo-meat ; and, whilst
smoking a pipe, carefully cleaned their rifles, and
filled their horns and pouches with good store of
ammunition.

A prominent feature in the character of the
hunters of the Far West is their quick determina-
tion and resolve in cases of extreme difficulty and
peril, and their fixedness of purpose, when any
plan of operations has been laid requiring bold
and instant action in carrying out. It is here
that they so infinitely surpass the savage Indian
in bringing to a successful issue their numerous

IN THE OLD WEST 53

hostile expeditions against the natural foe of the
white man in the wild and barbarous regions of
the West. Ready to resolve as they are prompt
to execute, and combining far greater dash and
daring with equal subtlety and caution, they,
possess great advantage over the vacillating In-
dian, whose superstitious mind in a great degree
paralyzes the physical energy of his active body;
and who, by waiting for propitious signs and sea-
sons before he undertakes an enterprise, often
loses the opportunity by which his white and more
civilized enemy knows so well how to profit.

Killbuck and La Bonte were no exceptions to
this characteristic rule; and before the sun was
a hand's-breadth above the eastern horizon, the
two hunters were running on the trail of the vic-
torious Indians. Striking from the creek where
the night attack was made, they crossed to another
known as Kioway, running parallel to Bijou, a
few hours' journey westward, and likewise head-
ing in the divide. Following this to its forks, they
struck into the upland prairies lying at the foot of
the mountains ; and crossing to the numerous water-
courses which feed the creek called Vermillion or
Cherry, they pursued the trail over the mountain-
spurs until it reached a fork of the Boiling Spring.
Here the war-party had halted and held a consul-
tation, for from this point the trail turned at a
tangent to the westward, and entered the rugged
gorges of the mountains. It was now evident to

54 IN THE OLD WEST

the two trappers that their destination was the
Bayou Salade,* — a mountain valley which is a
favorite resort of the buffalo in the winter sea-
son, and which, and for this reason, is often fre-
quented by the Yuta Indians as their wintering
ground. That the Rapahos were on a war ex-
pedition against the Yutas, there was little doubt ;
and Killbuck, who knew every inch of the ground,
saw at once, by the direction the trail had taken,
that they were making for the Bayou in order to
surprise their enemies, and, therefore, were not
following the usual Indian trail up the canon of
the Boiling Spring river. Having made up his
mind to this, he at once struck across the broken
ground lying at the foot of the mountains, steer-
ing a course a little to the eastward of north, or
almost in the direction whence he had come; and
then, pointing westward, about noon he crossed
a mountain-chain, and descending into a ravine
through which a little rivulet tumbled over its
rocky bed, he at once proved the correctness of
his judgment by striking the Indian trail, now
quite fresh, as it wound through the canon along
the bank of the stream. The route he had fol-
lowed, impracticable to pack-animals, had saved
at least half-a-day's journey, and brought them
within a short distance of the object of their pur-
suit; for, at the head of the gorge, a lofty bluff
presenting itself, the hunters ascended to the sum-
* The old name of South Park, Colorado. (Ed.)

IN THE OLD WEST 56

mit, and, looking down, descried at their very
feet the Indian camp, with their own stolen caval-
lada feeding quietly round.

" Wagh ! " exclaimed both the hunters in a
breath. "And thar's the old gal at that,"
chuckled Killbuck, as he recognized his old grizzled
mule making good play at the rich buffalo grass
with which these mountain valleys abound.

" If we don't make a raise afore long, I wouldn't
say so. Thar plans is plain to this child as beaver
sign. They're after Yuta hair, as certain as this
gun has got hind-sights ; but they arn't a-goin' to
pack them animals after 'em, and have crawled
like rattlers along this bottom to cache 'em till
they come back from the Bayou, — and maybe
they'll leave half-a-dozen soldiers * with 'em."

How right the wily trapper was in his con-
jectures will be shortly proved. Meanwhile, with
his companion, he descended the bluff, and push-
ing his way into a thicket of dwarf pine and cedar,
sat down on a log, and drew from an end of the
blanket strapped on his shoulder, a portion of a
buffalo's liver, which they both discussed, raw,
with infinite relish; eating in lieu of bread (an un-
known luxury in these parts) sundry strips of
dried fat. To have kindled a fire would have been
dangerous, since it was not impossible that some
of the Indians might leave their camp to hunt,

* The young untried warriors of the Indians are thus
called.

56 . IN THE OLD WEST

when the smoke would at once have betrayed the
presence of enemies. A light was struck, however,
for their pipes; and after enjoying this true con-
solation for some time, they laid a blanket on the
ground, and, side by side, soon fell asleep.

If Killbuck had been a prophet, or the most
prescient of medicine-men, he could not have more
exactly predicted the movements in the Indian
camp. About three hours before sundown he rose
and shook himself, which movement was sufficient
to awaken his companion. Telling La Bonte to
lie down again and rest, he gave him to understand
that he was about to reconnoiter the enemy's
camp ; and after carefully examining his rifle, and
drawing his knife-belt a hole or two tighter, he
proceeded on his dangerous errand. Ascending
the same bluff whence he had first discovered the
Indian camp, he glanced rapidly around, and made
himself master of the features of the ground —
choosing a ravine by which he might approach the
camp more closely, and without danger of being
discovered. This was soon effected; and in half
an hour the trapper was lying on his belly on the
summit of a pine-covered bluff which overlooked
the Indians within easy rifle-shot, and so perfectly
concealed by the low spreading branches of the
cedar and arbor-vitae, that not a particle of his
person could be detected ; unless, indeed, his sharp
twinkling gray eye contrasted too strongly with
the green boughs that covered the rest of his face.

IN THE OLD WEST 57

Moreover, there was no danger of their hitting up-
on his trail, for he had been careful to pick his steps
on the rock-covered ground, so that not a track
of his moccasin was visible. Here he lay, still as
a carcajou in wait for a deer, only now and then
shaking the boughs as his body quivered with a
suppressed chuckle, when any movement in the
Indian camp caused him to laugh inwardly at his
(if they had known it) unwelcome propinquity.
He was not a little surprised, however, to discover
that the party was much smaller than he had im-
agined, counting only forty warriors ; and this
assured him that the band had divided, one half
taking the Yuta trail by the Boiling Spring, the
other (the one before him) taking a longer cir-
cuit in order to reach the Bayou, and make the
attack on the Yutas, in a different direction.

At this moment the Indians were in delibera-
tion. Seated in a large circle round a very small
fire,* the smoke from which ascended in a thin
straight column, they each in turn puffed a huge
cloud of smoke from three or four long cherry-
stemmed pipes, which went the round of the
party ; each warrior touching the ground with the
heel of the pipe-bowl, and turning the stem up-
wards and away from him as medicine to the Great

* There is a great difference between an Indian's fire and
a white's. The former places the ends of logs to burn
gradually; the latter, the center, besides making such a
bonfire that the Indians truly say, "The white makes a
fire so hot that he cannot approach to warm himself by it."

58 IN THE OLD WEST

Spirit, before he himself inhaled the fragrant kin-
nik-kinnik. The council, however, was not gen-
eral, for only fifteen of the older warriors took
part in it, the others sitting outside, and at some
little distance from the circle. Behind each were
his arms — bow and quiver, and shield — hang-
ing from a spear stuck in the ground; and a few
guns in ornamented covers of buckskin were added
to some of the equipments.

Near the fire, and in the center of the inner
circle, a spear was fixed upright in the ground,
and on this dangled the four scalps of the trap-
pers killed the preceding night; and underneath
them, affixed to the same spear, was the mystic
medicine-bag, by which Killbuck knew that the
band before him was under the command of the
chief of the tribe.

Towards the grim trophies on the spear, the
warriors, who in turn addressed the council, fre-
quently pointed — more than one, as he did so,
making the gyratory motion of the right hand
and arm which the Indians use in describing that
they have gained an advantage by skill or cun-
ning. Then pointing westward, the speaker would
thrust out his arm, extending his fingers at the
same time, and closing and reopening them re-
peatedly— meaning, that although four scalps
already ornamented the medicine pole, they were
as nothing compared to the numerous trophies
they would bring from the Salt Valley, where they

IN THE OLD WEST 59

expected to find their hereditary enemies the
Yutas. " That now was not the time to count
their coups " (for at this moment one of the war-
riors rose from his seat, and, swelling with pride,
advanced towards the spear, pointing to one of
the scalps, and then striking his open hand on
his naked breast, jumped into the air, as if about
to go through the ceremony) ; " that before many
suns all their spears together would not hold the
scalps they had taken; and that they would re-
turn to their village, and spend a moon relating
their achievements and counting coups."

All this Killbuck learned, — thanks to his knowl-
edge of the language of signs — a master of which,
if even he have no ears or tongue, never fails to
understand, and be understood by, any of the
hundred tribes whose languages are perfectly dis-
tinct and different. He learned, moreover, that
at sundown the greater part of the band would
resume the trail, in order to reach the Bayou by
the earliest dawn; and also, that no more than
four or five of the younger warriors would remain
with the captured animals. Still the hunter re-
mained in his position until the sun had disap-
peared behind the ridge; when, taking up their
arms, and throwing their buffalo-robes on their
shoulders, the war-party of Rapahos, one behind
the other, with noiseless step and silent as the
dumb, moved away from the camp. When the
last dusky form had disappeared behind a point

60 IN THE OLD WEST

of rocks which shut in the northern end of the
little valley or ravine, Killbuck withdrew his head
from its screen, crawled backwards on his stomach
from the edge of the bluff, and, rising from the
ground, shook and stretched himself ; then gave
one cautious look around, and immediately pro-
ceeded to rejoin his companion.

" Lave (get up), boy," said Killbuck, as soon
as he reached him. " Hyar's grainin' to do afore
long - — and sun's about down, I'm thinking."

" Ready, old hoss," answered La Bonte, giving
himself a shake. " What's the sign like, and how
many's the lodge? "

" Fresh, and five, boy. How do you feel ? "

" Half froze for hair. Wagh! "

<{ We'll have moon to-night, and as soon as
she gets up, we'll make 'em come."

Killbuck then described to his companion what
he had seen, and detailed his plan. This was
simply to wait until the moon afforded sufficient
light, then to approach the Indian camp and
charge into it, " lift " as much " hair " as they
could, recover their animals, and start at once to
the Bayou and join the friendly Yutas, warning
them of the coming danger. The risk of falling
in with either of the Rapaho bands was hardly
considered ; to avoid this they trusted to their
own foresight, and the legs of their mules, should
they encounter them.

Between sundown and the rising of the moon

IN THE OLD WEST 61

they had leisure to eat their supper, which, as
before, consisted of raw buffalo-liver; after dis-
cussing which, Killbuck pronounced himself " a
heap " better, and ready for " hugginV

In the short interval of almost perfect darkness
which preceded the moonlight, and taking advan-
tage of one of the frequent squalls of wind which
howl down the narrow gorges of the mountains,
these two determined men, with footsteps noiseless
as the panther's, crawled to the edge of the little
plateau of some hundred yards square, where the
five Indians in charge of the animals were seated
round the fire, perfectly unconscious of the vicin-
ity of danger. Several clumps of cedar-bushes
dotted the small prairie, and amongst these the
well-hobbled mules and horses were feeding.
These animals, accustomed to the presence of
whites, would not notice the two hunters as they
crept from clump to clump nearer to the fire, and
also served, even if the Indians should be on the
watch, to conceal their movements from them.

This the two men at once perceived; but old
Killbuck knew that if he passed within sight or
smell of his mule, he would be received with a
whinny of recognition, which would at once alarm
the enemy. He therefore first ascertained where
his own animal was feeding, which luckily was at
the farther side of the prairie, and would not in-
terfere with his proceedings.

Threading their way amongst the feeding mules,

62 IN THE OLD WEST

they approached a clump of bushes about forty
yards from the spot where the unconscious savages
were seated smoking round the fire; and here they
awaited, scarcely drawing breath the while, the
moment when the moon rose above the mountain
into the clear cold sky, and gave them light suffi-
cient to make sure their work of bloody retribu-
tion. Not a pulsation in the hearts of these stern
determined men beat higher than its wont ; not the
tremor of a nerve disturbed their frame. They
stood with lips compressed and rifles ready, their
pistols loosened in their belts, their scalp-knives
handy to their grip. The lurid glow of the com-
ing moon already shot into the sky above the
ridge, which stood out in bold relief against the
light; and the luminary herself just peered over
the mountain, illuminating its pine-clad summit,
and throwing her beams on an opposite peak, when
Killbuck touched his companion's arm, and whis-
pered, " Wait for the full light, boy."

At this moment, however, unseen by the trap-
per, the old grizzled mule had gradually ap-
proached, as she fed along the plateau ; and, when
within a few paces of their retreat, a gleam of
moonshine revealed to the animal the erect farms
of the two whites. Suddenly she stood still and
pricked her ears, and stretching out her neck and
nose, snuffed the air. Well she knew her old
master.

Killbuck, with eyes fixed upon the Indians, was

IN THE OLD WEST 63

on the point of giving the signal of attack to his
comrade, when the shrill whinny of his mule rever-
berated through the gorge. The Indians jumped
to their feet and seized their arms, when Killbuck,
with a loud shout of " At 'em, boy ; give the nig-
gers h — ! " rushed from his concealment, and with
La Bonte by his side, yelling a fierce war-whoop,
sprang upon the startled savages.

Panic-struck with the suddenness of the attack,
the Indians scarcely knew where to run, and for
a moment stood huddled together like sheep.
Down dropped Killbuck on his knee, and stretch-
ing out his wiping-stick, planted it on the ground
at the extreme length of his arm. As methodic-
ally and as coolly as if about to aim at a deer,
he raised his rifle to this rest and pulled the trig-
ger. At the report an Indian fell forward on
his face, at the same moment that La Bonte, with
equal certainty of aim, and like effect, discharged
his own rifle.

The three surviving Indians, seeing that their
assailants were but two, and knowing that their
guns were empty, came on with loud yells. With
the left hand grasping a bunch of arrows, and
holding the bow already bent, and arrow fixed,
they steadily advanced, bending low to the ground
to get their objects between them and the light,
and thus render their aim more certain. The
trappers, however, did not care to wait for them.
Drawing their pistols, they charged at once; and

64 IN THE OLD WEST

although the bows twanged, and the three arrows
struck their mark, on they rushed, discharging
their pistols at close quarters. La Bonte threw
his empty one at the head of an Indian who was
pulling his second arrow to its head at a yard's
distance, drew his knife at the same moment, and
made at him.

But the Indian broke and ran, followed by his
surviring companion; and as soon as Killbuck
could ram home another ball, he sent a shot fly-
ing after them as they scrambled up the moun-
tain-side, leaving in their fright and hurry their
bows and shields on the ground.

The fight was over, and the two trappers con-
fronted each other : " We've given 'em h — ! "
laughed Killbuck.

" Well, we have," answered the other, pulling
an arrow out of his arm. " Wagh ! "

" We'll lift the hair, anyhow," continued the
first, " afone the scalp's cold."

Taking his whetstone from the little sheath on
his knife-belt, the trapper proceeded to " edge "
his knife, and then stepping to the first prostrate
body, he turned it over to examine if any symp-
tom of vitality remained. " Thrown cold ! " he
exclaimed, as he dropped the lifeless arm he had
lifted. " I sighted him about the long ribs, but
the light was bad, and I couldn't get a bead off-
hand anyhow."

Seizing with his left hand the long and braided

IN THE OLD WEST 65

lock on the center of the Indian's head, he passed
the point edge of his keen butcher-knife round the
parting, turning it at the same time under the
skin to separate the scalp from the skull; then
with a quick and sudden jerk of his hand, he re-
moved it entirely from the head, and giving the
reeking trophy a wring upon the grass to free it
from the blood, he coolly hitched it under his belt,
and proceeded to the next; but seeing La Bonte
operating upon this, he sought the third, who lay
some little distance from the others. This one
was still alive, a pistol-ball having passed through
his body without touching a vital spot.

" Gut-shot is this nigger," exclaimed the trap-
per ; " them pistols never throws 'em in their
tracks ; " and thrusting his knife, for mercy's
sake, into the bosom of the Indian, he likewise
tore the scalp-lock from his head, and placed it
with the other.

La Bonte had received two trivial wounds, and
Killbuck till now had been walking about with
an arrow sticking through the fleshy part of his
thigh, the point being perceptible near the sur-
face of the other side. To free his leg from the
painful encumbrance, he thrust the weapon com-
pletely through, and then, cutting off the arrow-
head below the barb, he drew it out, the blood
flowing freely from the wound. A tourniquet of
buckskin soon stopped this, and, heedless of the
pain, the hardy mountaineer sought for his old

66 IN THE OLD WEST

mule, and quickly brought it to the fire (which
La Bonte had rekindled), lavishing many a caress,
and most comical terms of endearment, upon the
faithful companion of his wanderings. They
found all the animals safe and well; and after
eating heartily of some venison which the Indians
had been cooking at the moment of the attack,
made instant preparations to quit the scene of
their exploit, not wishing to trust to the chance
of the Rapahos being too frightened to again
molest them.

Having no saddles, they secured buffalo-robes
on the backs of two mules — Killbuck, of course,
riding his own — and lost no time in proceeding
on their way. They followed the course of the
Indians up the stream, and found that it kept
the canons and gorges of the mountains, where
the road was better ; but it was with no little diffi-
culty that they made their way, the ground be-
ing much broken, and covered with rocks. Kill-
buck's wound became very painful, and his leg
stiffened and swelled distressingly, but he still
pushed on all night, and at daybreak, recognizing
their position, he left the Indian trail, and fol-
lowed a little creek which rose in a mountain-
chain of moderate elevation, and above which,
and to the south, Pike's Peak towered high into
the clouds. With great difficulty they crossed
this ridge, and ascending and descending several
smaller ones, which gradually smoothed away as

IN THE OLD WEST 67

they met the valley, about three hours after sun-
rise they found themselves in the south-east cor-
ner of the Bayou Salade.

The Bayou Salade, or Salt Valley, is the most
southern of three very extensive valleys, form-
ing a series of tablelands in the very center of
the main chain of the Rocky Mountains, known
to the trappers by the name of the " Parks."
The numerous streams by which they are watered
abound in the valuable fur-bearing beaver, whilst
every species of game common to the West is
found here in great abundance. The Bayou
Salade especially, owing to the salitrose nature
of the soil and springs, is the favorite resort of
all the larger animals common to the mountains ;
and in the sheltered prairies of the Bayou, the
buffalo, forsaking the barren and inclement re-
gions of the exposed plains, frequent these upland
valleys in the winter months; and feeding upon
the rich and nutritious buffalo grass, which on
the bare prairies at that season is either dry
and rotten or entirely exhausted, not only sus-
tain life, but retain a great portion of the " con-
dition " that the abundant fall and summer pas-
ture of the lowlands has laid upon their bones,
Therefore is this valley sought by the Indians
as a wintering-ground. Its occupancy has been
disputed by most of the mountain tribes, and
long and bloody wars have been waged to make
good the claims set forth by Yuta, Rapaho,

68 IN THE OLD WEST

Sioux, and Shians.* However, to the first of
these it may be said now to belong, since their
" big village " has wintered there for many suc-
cessive years ; whilst the Rapahos seldom visit it
unless on war expeditions against the Yutas.

Judging, from the direction the Rapahos were
taking, that the friendly tribe of Yutas were there
already, the trappers had resolved to join them
as soon as possible; and therefore, without rest-
ing, pushed on through the uplands, and, towards
the middle of the day, had the satisfaction of
descrying the conical lodges of the village, situ-
ated on a large level plateau, through which ran
a mountain stream. A numerous band of mules
and horses were scattered over the pasture, and
round them several mounted Indians kept guard.
As the trappers descended the bluffs into the
plain, some straggling Indians caught sight of
them ; and instantly one of them, lassoing a horse
from the herd, mounted it, barebacked, and flew
like wind to the village to spread the news. Soon
the lodges disgorged their inmates ; first the women
and children rushed to the side of the strangers'
approach ; then the younger Indians, unable to
restrain their curiosity, mounted their horses, and
galloped forth to meet them. The old chiefs,
enveloped in buffalo-robes (softly and delicately
dressed as the Yutas alone know how), and with
tomahawk held in one hand and resting in the

* Utahs, Arapahoes, Sioux, and Cheyennes. (Ed.)

IN THE OLD WEST 69

hollow of the other arm, sallied last of all from
their lodges; and, squatting in a row on a sunny
bank outside the village, awaited, with dignified
composure, the arrival of the whites. Killbuck
was well known to most of them, having trapped
in their country and traded with them years be-
fore at Roubideau's fort at the head waters of
the Rio Grande. After shaking hands with all
who presented themselves, he at once gave them to
understand that their enemies, the Rapahos, were
at hand, with a hundred warriors at least, elated
by the coup they had just struck against the
whites, bringing, moreover, four white scalps to
incite them to brave deeds.

At this news the whole village was speedily in
commotion: the war-shout was taken up from
lodge to lodge ; the squaws began to lament and
tear their hair; the warriors to paint and arm
themselves. The elder chiefs immediately met in
council, and, over the medicine-pipe, debated as to
the best course to pursue — whether to wait the
attack, or sally out and meet the enemy. In the
meantime, the braves were collected together by
the chiefs of their respective bands ; and scouts,
mounted on the fastest horses, despatched in every
direction to procure intelligence of the enemy.

The two whites, after watering their mules and
picketing them in some good grass near the vil-
lage, drew near the council fire, without, however,
joining in the " talk," until they were invited to

70 IN THE OLD WEST

take their seats by the eldest chief. Then Kill-
buck was called upon to give his opinion as to the
direction in which he judged the Rapahos to be
approaching, which he delivered in their own
language, with which he was well acquainted. In
a short time the council broke up; and without
noise or confusion, a band of one hundred chosen
warriors left the village, immediately after one
of the scouts had galloped in and communicated
some intelligence to the chiefs. Killbuck and La
Bonte volunteered to accompany the war-party,
weak and exhausted as they were; but this was
negatived by the chiefs, who left their white
brothers to the care of the women, who tended
their wounds, now stiff and painful ; and spread-
ing their buffalo-robes in a warm and roomy lodge,
left them to the repose they so much needed.

CHAPTER II

THE next morning Killbuck's leg was
greatly inflamed, and he was unable to
leave the lodge; but he made his compan-
ion bring the old mule to the door, that he might
give her a couple of ears of Indian corn, the last
remains of the slender store brought by the In-
dians from the Navajo country. The day passed,
and sundown brought no tidings of the war-party.
This caused no little wailing on the part of the
squaws, but was interpreted by the whites as a
favorable augury. A little after sunrise on the
second morning, the long line of the returning
warriors was discerned winding over the prairie,
and a scout having galloped in to bring the news
of a great victory, the whole village was soon in
a ferment of paint and drumming. A short dis-
tance from the lodges, the warriors halted to await
the approach of the people. Old men, children,
and squaws sitting astride their horses, sallied
out to escort the victorious party in triumph to
the village. With loud shouts and songs, and
drums beating the monotonous Indian time, they
advanced and encircled the returning braves, one
of whom, his face covered with black paint, car-

71

72 IN THE OLD WEST

ried a pole on which dangled thirteen scalps, the
trophies of the expedition. As he lifted these on
high they were saluted with deafening whoops,
and cries of exultatio-n and savage joy. In this
manner they entered the village, almost before
the friends of those fallen in the fight had ascer-
tained their losses. Then the shouts of delight
were converted into yells of grief ; the mothers and
wives of those braves who had been killed (and
seven had " gone under ") presently returned with
their faces, necks, and hands blackened, and
danced and howled round the scalp-pole, which
had been deposited in the center of the village, in
front of the lodge of the great chief.

Killbuck now learned that a scout having
brought intelligence that the two band's of Rapa-
hos were hastening to form a junction, as soon as
they learned that their approach was discovered,
the Yutas had successfully prevented it ; and at-
tacking one party, had entirely defeated it, kill-
ing thirteen of the Rapaho braves. The other
party had fled on seeing the issue of the fight, and
a few of the Yuta warriors were now pursuing
them.

To celebrate so signal a victory, great prepara-
tions sounded their notes through the village.
Paints — vermilion and ochres, red and yellow —
were in great request; whilst the scrapings of
charred wood, mixed with gunpowder, were used
as substitute for black, the medicine color.

IN THE OLD WEST 73

The lodges of the village, numbering some two
hundred or more, were erected in parallel lines,
and covered a large space of the level prairie in
shape of a parallelogram. In the center, how-
ever, the space which half-a-dozen lodges in length
would have taken up was left unoccupied, save by
one large one, of red-painted buffalo-skins, tat-
tooed with the mystic totems of the medicine
peculiar to the nation. In front of this stood the
grim scalp-pole, like a decayed tree-trunk, its
bloody fruit tossing in the wind; and on another
pole, at a few feet distance, was hung the bag
with its mysterious contents. Before each lodge
a tripod of spears supported the arms and shields
of the Yuta chivalry, and on many of them smoke-
dried scalps rattled in the wind, former trophies
of the dusky knights who were arming themselves
within. Heraldic devices were not wanting —
not, however, graved upon the shield, but hang-
ing from the spear-head, the actual totem of the
warrior it distinguished. The rattlesnake, the
otter, the carcajou, the mountain badger, the
war-eagle, the konqua-kish, the porcupine, the fox,
&c., dangled their well-stuffed skins, displaying
the guardian medicine of the warriors they per-
tained to, and representing the mental and cor-
poreal qualities which were supposed to character-
ize the braves to whom they belonged.

From the center lodge, two or three medicine-
men, fantastically attired in the skins of wolves

74 IN THE OLD WEST

and bears, and bearing long peeled wands of
cherry in their hands, occasionally emerged to tend
a very small fire which they had kindled in the
center of the open space ; and when a thin column
of smoke arose, one of them planted the scalp-
pole obliquely across the fire. Squaws in robes
of white dressed buckskin, garnished with beads
and porcupines' quills, and their faces painted
bright red and black, then appeared. These
ranged themselves round the outside of the square,
the boys and children of all ages, mounted o-n
barebacked horses, galloping round and round,
and screaming with eagerness, excitement, and
curiosity.

Presently the braves and warriors made their
appearance, and squatted round the fire in two
circles, those who had been engaged on the ex-
pedition being in the first or smaller one. One
medicine-man sat under the scalp-pole, having a
drum between his knees, which he tapped at inter-
vals with his hand, eliciting from the instrument
a hollow monotonous sound. A bevy of women,
shoulder to shoulder, then advanced from the four
sides of the square, and some, shaking a rattle-
drum in time with their steps, commenced a jump-
ing, jerking dance, now lifting one foot from the
ground, and now rising with both, accompanying
the dance with a chant, which swelled from a low
whisper to the utmost extent of their voices —
now dying away, and again bursting into vocifer-

IN THE OLD WEST 75

ous measure. Thus they advanced to the center
and retreated to their former positions ; when six
squaws, with their faces painted a dead black,
made their appearance from the crowd, chanting,
in soft and sweet measure, a lament for the braves
the nation had lost in the late battle : but soon as
they drew near the scalp-pole, their melancholy
note changed to the music (to them) of gratified
revenge. In a succession of jumps, raising the
feet alternately but a little distance from the
ground, they made their way, through an interval
left in the circle of warriors, to the grim pole, and
encircling it, danced in perfect silence round it
for a few moments. Then they burst forth with
an extempore song, laudatory of the achievements
of their victorious braves. They addressed the
scalps as " sisters " (to be called a squaw is the
greatest insult that can be offered to an Indian),
and, spitting at them, upbraided them with their
rashness in leaving their lodges to seek for Yuta
husbands ; " that the Yuta warriors and young
men despised them, and chastised them for their
forwardness and presumption, bringing back their
scalps to their own women."

After sufficiently proving that they had any-
thing but lost the use of their tongues, but pos-
sessed, on the contrary, as fair a length of that
formidable weapon as any of their sex, they with-
drew, and left the field in undisputed possession
of the men; who, accompanied by tap of drum,

76 IN THE OLD WEST

and by the noise of many rattles, broke out into
a war-song, in which their own valor was by no
means hidden in a bushel, or modestly refused the
light of day. After this came the more interest-
ing ceremony of a warrior " counting his coups."
A young brave, with his face painted black,
mounted on a white horse mysteriously marked
with red clay, and naked to the breech-clout, hold-
ing in his hand a long taper lance, rode into the
circle, and paced slowly round it; then, flourish-
ing his spear on high, he darted to the scalp-pole,
round which the warriors were now seated in a
semicircle; and in a loud voice, and with furious
gesticulations, related his exploits, the drums tap-
ping at the conclusion of each. On his spear
hung seven scalps, and holding it vertically above
his head, and commencing with the top one, he
told the feats in which he had raised the trophy
hair. When he had run through these the drums
tapped loudly, and several of the old chiefs shook
their rattles, in corroboration of the truth of his
achievements. The brave, swelling with pride,
then pointed to the fresh and bloody scalps hang-
ing on the pole. Two of these had been torn from
the heads of Rapahos struck by his own hand, and
this feat, the exploit of the day, had entitled him
to the honor of counting his coups. Then, stick-
ing his spear into the ground by the side of the
pole, he struck his hand twice on his brawny and
naked chest, turned short round, and, swift as

IN THE OLD WEST 77

the antelope, galloped into the plain, as if over-
come by the shock his modesty had received in be-
ing obliged to recount his own high-sounding
deeds.

"Wagh!" exclaimed old Killbuck, as he left
the circle, pointing his pipe-stem towards the fast-
fading figure of the brave, " that Injun's heart's
about as big as ever it will be, I'm thinking."

With the Yutas, Killbuck and La Bonte re-
mained during the winter; and when the spring
sun had opened the icebound creeks, and melted
the snow on the mountains, and its genial warmth
had expanded the earth and permitted the roots
of the grass to " live " once more, and throw out
green and tender shoots, the two trappers bade
adieu to the hospitable Indians, who broke up their
village in order to start for the valleys of the Del
Norte. As they followed the trail from the
Bayou, at sundown, just as they thought of camp-
ing, they observed ahead of them a solitary horse-
man * riding along, followed by three mules. His
hunting-frock of fringed buckskin, and the rifle
resting across the horn of his saddle, at once pro-
claimed him white ; but as he saw the mountaineers
winding through the canon, driving before them
half-a-dozen horses, he judged they might possibly
be Indians and enemies, the more so as their dress
was not the usual costume of the whites. The
trappers, therefore, saw the stranger raise the rifle

* Evidently Ruxton himself. (Ed.)

78 IN THE OLD WEST

in the hollow of his arm, and gathering up his
horse, ride steadily to meet them, as soon as he
observed they were but two ; two to one in moun-
tain calculation being scarcely considered odds,
if red skin to white.

However, on nearing them, the stranger dis-
covered his mistake, and throwing his rifle across
the saddle once more reined in his horse and waited
their approach; for the spot where he then stood
presented an excellent camping-ground, with abun-
dance of dry wood and convenient water.

" Where from, stranger ? "

" The divide, and to the Bayou for meat ; and
you are from there, I see. Any buffalo come in
yet?"

" Heap, and seal-fat at that. What's the sign
out on the plains ? "

" War-party of Rapahos passed Squirrel at
sundown yesterday, and nearly raised my animals.
Sign, too, of more on left fork of Boiling Spring.
No buffalo between this and Bijou. Do you feel
like camping? "

" Well, we do. But whar's your campan-
yeros ? "

" I'm alone."

" Alone? Wagh! how do you get your animals
along? "

" I go ahead, and they follow the horse."

" Well, that beats all ! That's a smart-looking
hoss, now; and runs some, I'm thinking."

IN THE OLD WEST 79

" Well, it does."

"Whar's them mules from? They look like
Californy."

" Mexican country — away down south."

« H— ! Whar's yourself from? "

" There away, too."

" What's beaver worth in Taos ? "

" Dollar."

"In Saint Louiy? "

" Same."

" H— ! Any call for buckskin? "

" A heap ! The soldiers in Santa Fe are half
froze for leather ; and moccasins fetch two dollars
easy."

" Wagh ! How's trade on Arkansa, and what's
doin' to the Fort?"

" Shians at Big Timber, and Bent's people trad-
ing smart. On North Fork, Jim Waters got a
hundred pack right off, and Sioux making more."

"Whar's Bill Williams?"

" Gone under, they say : the Diggers took his
hair."

" How's powder goin' ? "

" Two dollars a pint."

"Bacca?"

" A plew a plug."

" Got any about you? "

" Have so."

" Give us a chaw ; and now let's camp."

Whilst unpacking their own animals, the two

80 IN THE OLD WEST

trappers could not refrain from glancing, every
now and then, with no little astonishment, at the
solitary stranger they had so unexpectedly en-
countered. If truth be told, his appearance not
a little perplexed them. His hunting-frock of
buckskin, shining with grease, and fringed panta-
loons, over which the well-greased butcher-knife
had evidently been often wiped after cutting his
food or butchering the carcass of deer and buffalo,
were of genuine mountain-make. His face, clean
shaved, exhibited, in its well-tanned and weather-
beaten complexion, the effects of such natural cos-
metics as sun and wind ; and under the mountain-
hat of felt which covered his head, long uncut hair
hung in Indian fashion on his shoulders. All this
would have passed muster, had it not been for the
most extraordinary equipment of a double-bar-
reled rifle, which, when it had attracted the eyes
of the mountaineers, elicited no little astonish-
ment, not to say derision. But perhaps nothing
excited their admiration so much as the perfect
docility of the stranger's animals, which, almost
like dogs, obeyed his voice and call; and albeit
that one, in a small sharp head and pointed ears,
expanded nostrils, and eye twinkling and mali-
cious, exhibited the personification of a lurking
devil, yet they could not but admire the perfect
ease with which even- this one, in common with
the rest, permitted herself to be handled.

Dismounting, and unhitching from the horn of

IN THE OLD WEST 81

his saddle the coil of skin rope, one end of which
was secured round the neck of the horse, he pro-
ceeded to unsaddle; and whilst so engaged, the
three mules, two of which were packed, one with
the unbutchered carcass of a deer, the other with
a pack of skins, &c., followed leisurely into the
space chosen for the camp, and, cropping the
grass at their ease, waited until a whistle called
them to be unpacked.

The horse was a strong square-built bay; and
although the severities of a prolonged winter, with
scanty pasture and long and trying travel, had
robbed his bones of fat and flesh, tucked up his
flank, and " ewed " his neck, still his clean and
well-set legs, oblique shoulder, and withers fine as
a deer's, in spite of his gaunt half-starved appear-
ance, bore ample testimony as to what he had
been; while his clear cheerful eye, and the hearty
appetite with which he fell to work on the coarse
grass of the bottom, proved that he had something
in him still, and was game as ever. His tail,
gnawed by the mules in days of strait, attracted
the observant mountaineers.

" Hard doin's when it come to that," remarked
La Bonte.

Between the horse and two of the mules a mu-
tual and great affection appeared to subsist,
which was no more than natural, when their mas-
ter observed to his companions that they had
traveled together upwards of two thousand miles.

82 IN THE OLD WEST

One of these mules was a short, thick-set,
stumpy animal, with an enormous head surmounted
by proportionable ears, and a pair of unusually
large eyes, beaming the most perfect good temper
and docility (most uncommon qualities in a mule).
Her neck was thick, and rendered more so in ap-
pearance by reason of her mane not being roached
(or, in English, hogged), which privilege she alone
enjoyed of the trio; and her short strong legs,
ending in small, round, cat-like hoofs, were feath-
ered with a profusion of dark-brown hair.

As she stood stock-still whilst the stranger re-
moved the awkwardly packed deer from her back,
she flapped her huge ears backward and forward,
occasionally turning her head, and laying her cold
nose against her master's cheek. When the pack
was removed he advanced to her head, and rest-
ing it on his shoulder, rubbed her broad and griz-
zled cheeks with both his hands for several min-
utes, the old mule laying her ears, like a rab-
bit, back upon her neck, and with half-closed eyes
enjoyed mightily the manipulation. Then, giv-
ing her a smack upon the haunch, and a " hep-a "
well known to the mule kind, the old favorite threw
up her heels and cantered off to the horse, who
was busily cropping the buffalo grass on the bluff
above the stream.

Great was the contrast between the one just
described and the next which came up to be di-
vested of her pack. She, a tall beautifully-shaped

IN THE OLD WEST 83

Mexican mule, of a light mouse color, with a head
like a deer's, and long springy legs, trotted up
obedient to the call, but with ears bent back and
curled-up nose, and tail compressed between her
legs. As her pack was being removed, she groaned
and whined like a dog as a thong or loosened strap
touched her ticklish body, lifting her hind quar-
ters in a succession of jumps or preparatory kicks,
and looked wicked as a panther. When nothing
but the fore pack-saddle remained, she had worked
herself into the last stage; and as the stranger
cast loose the girth of buffalo-hide, and was about
to lift the saddle and draw the crupper from the
tail, she drew her hind legs under her, more tightly
compressed her tail, and almost shrieked with rage.

" Stand clear," he roared (knowing what was
coming), and raised the saddle, when out went her
hind legs, up went the pack into the air, and, with
it dangling at her heels, away she tore, kicking
the offending saddle as she ran. Her master,
however, took this as matter of course, followed
her and brought back the saddle, which he piled
on the others to windward of the fire one of the
trappers was kindling. Fire-making is a simple
process with the mountaineers. Their bullet-
pouches always contain a flint and steel, and sun-
dry pieces of "punk"* or tinder; and pulling
a handful of dry grass, which they screw into a
nest, they place the lighted punk in this, and,

* A pithy substance found in dead trees.

84 IN THE OLD WEST

closing the grass over it, wave it in the air, when
it soon ignites, and readily kindles the dry sticks
forming the foundation of the fire.

The tidbits of the deer the stranger had brought
in were soon roasting over the fire ; whilst, as soon
as the burning logs had deposited a sufficiency of
ashes, a hole was raked in them, and the head of
the deer, skin, hair, and all, placed in this primi-
tive oven, and carefully covered with the hot ashes.

A " heap " of fat meat in perspective, our moun-
taineers enjoyed their anteprandial pipes, recount-
ing the news of the respective regions whence they
came ; and so well did they like each other's com-
pany, so sweet was the honeydew tobacco of which
the strange hunter had good store, so plentiful
the game about the creek, and so abundant the
pasture for their winter-starved animals, that be-
fore the carcass of the two-year buck had been
more than four-fifths consumed — and although
rib after rib had been picked and chucked over
their shoulders to the wolves, and one fore leg
and the " bit " of all, the head, were still cooked
before them — the three had come to the resolu-
tion to join company, and hunt in their present
locality for a few days at least — the owner of
the " two-shoot " gun volunteering to fill their
horns with powder, and find tobacco for their
pipes.

Here, on plenty of meat, of venison, bear, and
antelope, they merrily luxuriated; returning after

IN THE OLD WEST 85

their daily hunts to the brightly-burning camp-
fire, where one always remained to guard the ani-
mals, and unloading their packs of meat (all choic-
est portions), ate late into the night, and, smok-
ing, wiled away the time in narrating scenes in
their hard-spent lives, and fighting their battles
o'er again.

The younger of the trappers, he who has fig-
ured under the name of La Bonte, had excited, by
scraps and patches from his history, no little curi-
osity in the stranger's mind to learn the ups and
downs of his career ; and one night, when they as-
sembled earlier than usual at the fire, he pre-
vailed upon the modest trapper to " unpack "
some passages in his wild adventurous life.

" Maybe," commenced the mountaineer, " you
both remember when old Ashley went out with the
biggest kind of band to trap the Columbia and
head-waters of Missoura and Yellow Stone. Well,
that was the time this nigger first felt like taking
to the mountains."

This brings us back to the year of our Lord
1825; and perhaps it will be as well, in order to
render La JBonte's mountain language intelligible,
to translate it at once into tolerable English, and
to tell in the third person, but from his own lips,
the scrapes which befell him in a sojourn of more
than twenty years in the Far West, and the causes
that impelled him to quit the comfort and civili-
zation of his home, to seek the perilous but en-

86 IN THE OLD WEST

gaging life of a trapper of the Rocky Moun-
tains.

La Bonte * was raised in the state of Mississippi,
not far from Memphis, on the left bank of that
huge and snag-filled river. His father was a Saint
Louis Frenchman, his mother a native of Tennes-
see. When a boy, our trapper was " some," he
said, with the rifle, and always had a hankering
for the West; particularly when, on accompany-
ing his father to Saint Louis every spring, he saw
the different bands of traders and hunters start
upon their annual expeditions to the mountains.
Greatly did he envy the independent insouciant
trappers, as, in all the glory of beads and buck-
skin, they shouldered their rifles at Jake Hawk-
en's door (the rifle-maker of Saint Louis), and
bade adieu to the cares and trammels of civilized
life.

However, IJke a thoughtless beaver-kitten, he
put his foot into a trap one fine day, set by Mary
Brand,f a neighbor's daughter, and esteemed
" some punkins " — or, in other words, toasted
as the beauty of the county — by the suscep-
tible Mississippians. From that moment he was
" gone beaver ; " " he felt queer," he said, " all
over, like a buffalo shot in the lights ; he had no

*The name of this trapper is perpetuated in La Bonte"
Creek, which enters the Platte River 66 miles above the
mouth of the Laramie, on the old Oregon trail. (Ed.}

fMary Chase. See introduction to this volume. (Ed.)

IN THE OLD WEST 87

relish for mush and molasses; hominy arid johnny
cakes failed to excite his appetite. Deer and tur-
keys ran by him unscathed ; he didn't know, he
said, whether his rifle had hind-sights or not. He
felt bad, that was a fact; but what ailed him he
didn't know."

Mary Brand — Mary Brand — Mary Brand!
the old Dutch clock ticked it. Mary Brand! his
head throbbed it when he lay down to sleep.
Mary Brand! his riflelock spoke it plainly when
he cocked it, to raise a shaking sight at a deer.
Mary Brand, Mary Brand! the whip-poor-will
sang it instead of her own well-known note ; the
bull-frogs croaked it in the swamp, and mosquitoes
droned it in his ear as he tossed about his bed
at night, wakeful, and striving to think what
ailed him.

Who could that strapping young fellow who
passed the door just now be going to see? Mary
Brand : Mary Brand. And who can big Pete Her-
ring be dressing that silver-fox skin so carefully
for? For whom but Mary Brand? And who is
it that jokes and laughs and dances with all the
" boys " but him ; and why ?

Who but Mary Brand: and because the love-
sick booby carefully avoids her.

" And Mary Brand herself — what is she like? "

" She's some now ; that is a fact, and the big-
gest kind of punkin at that," would have been the
answer from any man, woman, or child in the

88 IN THE OLD WEST

county, and truly spoken too ; always understand-
ing that the pumpkin is the fruit by which the
ne plus ultra of female perfection is expressed
amongst the figuratively-speaking westerns.

Being an American woman, of course she was
tall, and straight and slim as a hickory sapling,
well formed withal, with rounded bust, and neck
white and slender as the swan's. Her features
were small, but finely chiselled : and in this, it may
be remarked, the lower orders of the American
woman differ from and far surpass the same class
in England, or elsewhere, where the features, al-
though far prettier, are more vulgar and common-
place. Mary Brand had the bright blue eye, thin
nose, and small but sweetly-formed mouth, the
too fair complexion and dark-brown hair, which
characterize the beauty of the Anglo-American,
the heavy masses (hardly curls) that fell over
her face and neck contrasting with her polished
whiteness. Such was Mary Brand; and when to
her good looks are added a sweet disposition and
all the best qualities of a thrifty housewife, it
must be allowed that she fully justified the eulo-
giums of the good people of Memphis.

Well, to cut a love-story short, in doing which
not a little moral courage is shown, young La
Bonte fell desperately in love with the pretty
Mary, and she with him; and small blame to her,
for he was a proper lad of twenty — six feet in
his moccasins — the best hunter and rifle-shot in

IN THE OLD WEST 89

the country, with many other advantages too
numerous to mention. But when did the course,
&c., e'er run smooth? When the affair had be-
come a recognized " courting " (and Americans
alone know the horrors of such prolonged pur-
gatory), they became, to use La Bonte's words,
" awful fond," and consequently about once a-
week had their tiffs and make-ups.

However, on one occasion, at a husking, and
during one of these tiffs, Mary, every inch a
woman, to gratify some indescribable feeling,
brought to her aid jealousy — that old serpent
who has caused such mischief in this world; and
by a flirtation over the corn-cobs with big Pete,
La Bonte's former and only rival, struck so hard
a blow at the latter's heart, that on the moment
his brain caught fire, blood danced before his eyes,
and he became like one possessed. Pete observed
and enjoyed his struggling emotion — better for
him had he minded his corn-shelling alone ; — and
the more to annoy his rival, paid the most sedulous
attention to pretty Mary.

Young La Bonte stood it as long as human
nature, at boiling heat, could endure,; but when
Pete, in the exultation of his apparent triumph,
crowned his success by encircling the slender waist
of the girl with his arm, and snatching a sudden
kiss, he jumped upright from his seat, and seiz-
ing a small whiskey-keg which stood in the center
of the corn-shellers, he hurled it at his rival, and

90 IN THE OLD WEST

crying to him, hoarse with passion, " to follow
if he was a man," he left the house.

At that time, and even now, in the remoter
States of the western country, rifles settled even
the most trivial differences between the hot-blooded
youths ; and of such frequent occurrence and in-
variably bloody termination did these encounters
become, that they scarcely produced sufficient ex-
citement to draw together half-a-dozen spectators.

In the present case, however, so public was the
quarrel and so well known the parties concerned,
that not only the people who had witnessed the
affair, but all the neighborhood, thronged to the
scene of action, in a large field in front of the
house, where the preliminaries of a duel between
Pete and La Bonte were being arranged by their
respective friends.

Mary, when she discovered the mischief her
thoughtlessness was likely to occasion, was almost
beside herself with grief, but she knew how vain it
would be to attempt to interfere. The poor girl,
who was most ardently attached to La Bonte, was
carried swooning into the house, where all the
women congregated, and were locked in by old
Brand, who, liimself an old pioneer, thought but
little of bloodshed, but refused to let the women
folk witness the affray.

Preliminaries arranged, the combatants took up
their respective positions at either end of a space
marked for the purpose, at forty paces from each

IN THE OLD WEST 91

other. They were both armed with heavy rifles,
and had the usual hunting pouches, containing
ammunition, hanging over the shoulder. Stand-
ing with the butts of their rifles on the ground,
they confronted each other ; and the crowd, draw-
ing away a few paces only on each side, left one
man to give the word. This was the single word
" fire ; " and after this signal was given, the com-
batants were at liberty to fire away until one or
the other dropped.

At the word, both the men quickly raised their
rifles to the shoulder; and whilst the sharp cracks
instantaneously rang, they were seen to flinch, as
either felt the pinging sensation of a bullet enter-
ing his flesh. Regarding each other steadily for
a few moments, the blood running down La Bonte's
neck from a wound under the left jaw, whilst his
opponent was seen to place his hand once to his
right breast, as if to feel the position of his
wound, they commenced reloading their rifles.
But as Pete wTas in the act of forcing down the
ball with his long hickory wiping-stick, he sud-
denly dropped his right arm — the rifle slipped
from his grasp — and, reeling for a moment like
a drunken man, he fell dead to the ground.

Even here, however, there was law of some kind
or another; and the consequences of the duel were,
that the constables were soon on the trail of La
Bonte to arrest him. He easily avoided them;
and, taking to the woods, lived for several days in

92 IN THE OLD WEST

as wild a state as the beasts he hunted and killed
for his support.

Tired of this, he at last resolved to quit the
country and betake himself to the mountains, for
which life he had ever felt an inclination.

When, therefore, he thought the officers of jus-
tice had grown slack in their search of him, and
that the coast was comparatively clear, he deter-
mined to start on his distant expedition to the
Far West.

Once more, before he carried his project into
execution, he sought and obtained a last inter-
view with Mary Brand.

" Mary," said he, " I'm about to break.
They're hunting me like a fall buck, and I'm
bound to quit. Don't think any more about me,
for I shall never come back."

Poor Mary burst into tears, and bent her head
on the table near which she sat. When she again
raised it, she saw La Bonte, his long rifle upon his
shoulder, striding with rapid steps from the house.
Year after year rolled on, and he did not return.

CHAPTER III

A FEW days after his departure, La Bonte
found himself at St. Louis, the empor-
ium of the fur-trade, and the fast-rising
metropolis of the precocious settlements of the
West. Here, a prey to the agony of mind which
jealousy, remorse, and blighted love mix into a
very puchero of misery, he got into the company
of certain rowdies, a class that every western city
particularly abounds in; and anxious to drown
his sorrows in any way, and quite unscrupulous
as to the means, he plunged into all the vicious
excitements of drinking, gambling, and fighting,
which form the every-day amusements of the ris-
ing generation of St. Louis.

Perhaps in no other part of the United States
— where, indeed, humanity is frequently to be seen
in many curious and unusual phases — is there a
population so marked in its general character, and
at the same time divided into such distinct classes,
as in the above-named city. Dating, as it does,
its foundation from yesterday,* — for what are

* He means as an American city. St. Louis was founded
by the French in 1764; transferred to the United States in
1804. (Ed.)

94 IN THE OLD WEST

forty years in the growth of a metropolis ? — its
founders are now scarcely past middle life, re-
garding with astonishment the growing works of
their hands ; and whilst gazing upon its busy
quays, piled with grain and other produce of the
West, its fleets of huge steamboats lying tier upon
tier alongside the wharves, its well-stored ware-
houses, and all the bustling concomitants of a
great commercial depot, they can scarcely realize
the memory of a few short years, when on the same
spot nothing was to be seen but the miserable
hovels of a French village — the only sign of com-
merce being the unwieldy bateaux of the Indian
traders, laden with peltries from the distant re-
gions of the Platte and Upper Missouri. Where
now intelligent and wealthy merchants walk erect,
in conscious substantiality of purse and credit,
and direct the commerce of a vast and well-peo-
pled region, there stalked but the other day, in
dress of buckskin, the Indian trader of the West;
and all the evidences of life, mayhap, consisted of
the eccentric vagaries of the different bands of
trappers and hardy mountaineers who accom-
panied, some for pleasure and some as escort, the
periodically arriving bateaux, laden with the
beaver-skins and buffalo-robes collected during the
season at the different trading-posts in the Far
West.*

These, nevertheless, were the men whose hardy

•Written in 1848. (Ed.)

IN THE OLD WEST 95

enterprise opened to commerce and the plow the
vast and fertile regions of the West. Rough and
savage though they were, they were the true pion-
eers of that extraordinary tide of civilization
which has poured its resistless current through
tracts large enough for kings to govern, over a
country now teeming with cultivation, where, a
few short years ago, countless herds of buffalo
roamed unmolested, where the bear and deer
abounded, and the savage Indian skulked through
the woods and prairies, lord of the unappreciated
soil that now yields its prolific treasures to the
spade and plow of civilized man. To the wild
and half-savage trapper, who may be said to ex-
emplify the energy, enterprise, and hardihood
characteristic of the American people, divested of
all the false and vicious glare with which a high
state of civilization, too rapidly attained, has ob-
scured their real and genuine character, in which
the above traits are eminently prominent — to
these men alone is due the empire of the West,
destined in a few short years to become the most
important of those confederated States compos-
ing the mighty Union of North America.

Sprung, then, out of the wild and adventurous
fur-trade, St. Louis, still the emporium of that
species of commerce, preserves even now, in the
character of its population, many of the marked
peculiarities distinguishing its early founders, who
were identified with the primitive Indian in hardi-

96 IN THE OLD WEST

hood and instinctive wisdom. Whilst the French
portion of the population retain the thoughtless
levity and frivolous disposition of their original
source, the Americans of St. Louis, who may lay
claim to be native, as it were, are as strongly dis-
tinguished for determination and energy of char-
acter as they are for physical strength and ani-
mal courage; and are remarkable, at the same
time, for a singular aptitude in carrying out com-
mercial enterprises to successful terminations, ap-
parently incompatible with the thirst of adventure
and excitement which forms so prominent a feature
in their character. In St. Louis and with her
merchants have originated many commercial en-
terprises of gigantic speculation, not confined to
the immediate locality or to the distant Indian
fur-trade, but embracing all parts of the con-
tinent, and even a portion of the Old World. And
here it must be remembered that St. Louis is situ-
ated inland, at a distance of upwards of one thou-
sand miles from the sea.

Besides her merchants and upper class, who
form a little aristocracy even here, a large portion
of her population, still connected with the Indian
and fur trade, preserve all their original character-
istics, unacted upon by the influence of advancing
civilization. There is, moreover, a large float-
ing population of foreigners of all nations, who
must possess no little amount of enterprise to be
tempted to this spot, whence they spread over the

IN THE OLD WEST 97

remote western tracts, still infested by the sav-
age; so that, if any of their blood is infused into
the native population, the characteristic energy
and enterprise is increased, and not tempered down
by the foreign cross.

But perhaps the most singular of the casual
population are the mountaineers, who, after sev-
eral seasons spent in trapping, and with good
store of dollars, arrive from the scene of their ad-
ventures, wild as savages, determined to enjoy
themselves, for a time, in all the gayety and dis-
sipation of the western city. In one of the back
streets of the town is a tavern well known as the
Rocky-Mountain House; and hither the trappers
resort, drinking and fighting* as long as their
money lasts, which, as they are generous and lav-
ish as Jack Tars, is for a few days only. Such
scenes, both tragic and comic, as are enacted in
the Rocky-Mountain House, are beyond the powers
of pen to describe; and when a fandango is in
progress, to which congregate the coquettish belles
from " Vide Poche," * as the French portion of the
suburb is nicknamed, the grotesque endeavors of
the bear-like mountaineers to sport a figure on
the light fantastic toe, and their insertions into
the dance of the mystic jumps of Terpsichorean
Indians when engaged in the " medicine " dances
in honor of bear, of buffalo, or ravished scalp, are

* Empty Pocket: A humorous nickname that the old
French bestowed upon Carondelet. (Ed.)

98 IN THE OLD WEST

such startling innovations on the choreographic
art as would make the shade of Gallini quake and
gibber in his pumps.

Passing the open doors and windows of the
Mountain House, the stranger stops short as the
sounds of violin and banjo twang upon his ears,
accompanied by extraordinary noises — sounding
unearthly to the greenhorn listener, but recog-
nized by the initiated as an Indian song roared out
of the stentorian lungs of a mountaineer, who,
patting his stomach with open hands to improve
the necessary shake, choruses the well-known In-
dian chant : —

Hi — Hi — Hi — Hi

Hi-i — Hi-i — Hi-i — Hi-i
Hi-ya — hi-ya — hi-ya — hi-ya

Hi-ya — hi-ya — hi-ya — hi-ya
• Hi-ya — hi-ya — hi — hi,
&c., &c., &c.

and polishes off the high notes with a whoop which
makes the old wooden houses shake again, as it
rattles and echoes down the street.

Here, over fiery " monaghahela," Jean Batiste,
the sallow half-breed voyageur from the North
— and who, deserting the service of the " North-
West " (the Hudson's Bay Company), has come
down the Mississippi, from the " Falls," to try
the sweets and liberty of " free " trapping — hob-
nobs with a stalwart leather-clad " boy," just re-

IN THE OLD WEST 99

turned from trapping on the waters of Grand
River, on the western side the mountains, who in-
terlards his mountain jargon with Spanish words
picked up in Taos and California. In one corner
a trapper, lean and gaunt from the starving re-
gions of the Yellow Stone, has just recognized
an old camp any ero, with whom he hunted years
before in the perilous country of the Blackfeet.

66 Why, John, old hoss, how do you come on? "

"What! Meek, old 'coon! I thought you
were under? "

One from Arkansa stalks into the center of the
room, with a pack of cards in his hand and a
handful of dollars in his hat. Squatting cross-
legged on a buffalo-robe, he smacks down the
money and cries out " Ho, boys ! hyar's a deck,
and hyar's the beaver " (rattling the coin) ; " who
dar set his hoss ? Wagh ! "

Tough are the yarns of wondrous hunts and
Indian perils, of hairbreadth 'scapes and curious
" fixes." Transcendent are the qualities of sun-
dry rifles which call these hunters masters;
" plum " is the " center " each vaunted barrel
shoots ; sufficing for a hundred wigs is the " hair "
each hunter has " lifted " from Indians' scalps ;
multitudinous the " coups " he has " struck." As
they drink so do they brag, first of their guns,
their horses, and their squaws, and lastly of them-
selves : and when it comes to that, " ware steel."

La Bonte, on his arrival at St. Louis, found

100 IN THE OLD WEST

himself one day in no less a place than this ; and
here he made acquaintance with an old trapper
about to start for the mountains in a few days, to
hunt on the head-waters of Platte and Green
River. With this man he resolved to start, and,
having still some hundred dollars in cash, he im-
mediately set about equipping himself for the ex-
pedition. To effect this, he first of all visited the
gun-store of Hawken, whose rifles are renowned in
the mountains, and exchanged his own piece, which
was of very small bore, for a regular mountain
rifle. This was of very heavy metal, carrying
about thirty-two balls to the pound, stocked to
the muzzle, and mounted with brass ; its only orna-
ment being a buffalo bull, looking exceedingly
ferocious, which was not very artistically engraved
upon the trap in the stock. Here, too, he laid in
a few pounds of powder and lead, and all the
necessaries for a long hunt.

His next visit was to a smith's store, which
smith was black by trade and black by nature,
for he was a nigger, and, moreover, celebrated as
being the best maker of beaver-traps in St. Louis;
and of him he purchased six new traps, paying
for the same twenty dollars — procuring, at the
same time, an old trap-sack made of stout buffalo-
skin in which to carry them.

We next find La Bonte and his companion —
one Luke, better known as Gouge-Eye, one of his
eyes having been " gouged " in a mountain fray

IN THE OLD WEST 101

— at Independence, a little town situated on the
Missouri, several hundred miles above St. Louis,
and within a short distance of the Indian frontier.
Independence may be termed the prairie port
of the western country. Here the caravans des-
tined for Santa Fe, and the interior of Mexico,
assemble to complete their necessary equipment.
Mules and oxen are purchased, teamsters hired,
and all stores and outfit laid in here for the long
journey over the wide expanse of prairie ocean.
Here, too, the Indian traders and the Rocky-
Mountain trappers rendezvous, collecting in suffi-
cient force to insure their safe passage through
the Indian country. At the seasons of departure
and arrival of these bands, the little town pre-
sents a lively scene of bustle and confusion. The
wild and dissipated mountaineers get rid of their
last dollars in furious orgies, treating all comers
to galore of drink, and pledging each other, in
horns of potent whisky, to successful hunts and
" heaps of beaver." When every cent has dis-
appeared from their pouches, the free trapper
often makes away with rifle, traps, and animals,
to gratify his " dry " (for your mountaineer is
never " thirsty ") ; and then, " hoss and beaver"
gone, is necessitated to hire himself to one of the
leaders of big bands, and hypothecate his serv-
ices for an equipment of traps and animals. Thus
La Bonte picked up three excellent mules for a
mere song, with their accompanying pack-saddles,

102 IN THE OLD WEST

apishamores* and lariats, and the next day, with
Luke, " put out " for Platte.

As they passed through the rendezvous, which
was encamped on a little stream beyond the town,
even our young Mississippian was struck with the
novelty of the scene. Upwards of forty huge
wagons, of Conestoga and Pittsburgh build, and
covered with snow-white tilts, were ranged in a
semicircle, or rather a horse-shoe form, on the flat
open prairie, their long tongues (poles) pointing
outwards; with the necessary harness for four
pairs of mules, or eight yoke of oxen, lying on the
ground beside them, spread in ready order for
hitching up. Round the wagons groups of team-
sters, tall, stalwart, young Missourians, were en-
gaged in busy preparation for the start, greasing
the wheels, fitting or repairing harness, smoothing
ox-bows or overhauling their own moderate kits
or " possibles." They were all dressed in the same
fashion: a pair of homespun pantaloons, tucked
into thick boots reaching nearly to the knee, and
confined round the waist by a broad leathern belt,
which supported a strong butcher-knife in a
sheath. A coarse checked shirt was their only
other covering, with a fur cap on the head.

Numerous camp-fires surrounded the wagons,
and near them lounged wild-looking mountaineers,
easily distinguished from the " greenhorn " team-
sters by their dresses of buckskin and their
* Saddle-blanket made of buffalo-calf skin.

IN THE OLD WEST 103

weather-beaten faces. Without an exception,
these were under the influence of the rosy god;
and one, who sat, the picture of misery, at a fire
by himself — staring into the blaze with vacant
countenance, his long matted hair hanging in un-
kempt masses over his face, begrimed with the
dirt of a week, and pallid with the effects of ar-
dent drink — was suffering from the usual con-
sequences of having " kept it up " beyond the
usual point, paying the penalty in a fit of " hor-
rors " — as delirium tremens is most aptly termed
by sailors and the unprofessional.

In another part, the merchants of the caravan
and the Indian traders superintended the lading
of the wagons or mule-packs. They were dressed
in civilized attire, and some were even bedizened in
St. Louis or eastern city dandyism, to the infinite
disgust of the mountain men, who look upon a
" bourge-way " (bourgeois) with most undis-
guised contempt, despising the very simplest
forms of civilization. The picturesque appear-
ance of the encampment was not a little heightened
by the addition of several Indians from the neigh-
boring Shawnee settlement, who, mounted on their
small active horses, on which they reclined rather
than sat in negligent attitudes, quietly looked on
at the novel scene, indifferent to the chaff in which
the thoughtless teamsters indulged at their ex-
pense. Numbers of mules and horses were picketed
at hand, whilst a large herd of noble oxen were

104* IN THE OLD WEST

being driven towards the camp — the wo-Tia of
the teamsters sounding far and near, as they col-
lected the scattered beasts in order to yoke up.

As most of the mountain-men were utterly un-
able to move from camp, Luke and La Bonte, with
three or four of the most sober, started in com-
pany, intending to wait on Blue, a stream which
runs into the Caw or Kanzas River, until the " bal-
ance " of the band came up. Mounting their
mules, and leading the loose animals, they struck
at once into the park-like prairie, and were speed-
ily out of sight of civilization.

It was the latter end of May, towards the close
of the season of heavy rains, which in early spring
render the climate of this country almost intoler-
able, at the same time that they fertilize and thaw
the soil, so long bound up by the winter's frosts.
The grass was everywhere luxuriantly green, and
gaudy flowers dotted the surface of the prairie.
This term, however, should hardly be applied to
the beautiful undulating scenery of this park-like
country. Unlike the flat monotony of the Grand
Plains, here well-wooded uplands, clothed with
forest-trees of every species, and picturesque
dells, through which run clear bubbling streams
belted with gay-blossomed shrubs, everywhere
present themselves ; whilst on the level meadow-
land, topes of trees with spreading foliage afford
a shelter to the game and cattle, and well-tim-
bered knolls rise at intervals from the plain.

IN THE OLD WEST 105

Many clear streams dashing over their pebbly
beds intersect the country, from which, in the
noonday's heat, the red-deer jump, shaking their
wet sides as the noise of approaching man dis-
turbs them ; and booming grouse rise from the tall
luxuriant herbage at every step. Where the deep
escarpments of the river-banks exhibit the section
of the earth, a rich alluvial soil of surpassing depth
courts the cultivation of civilized man; and in
every feature it is evident that here nature has
worked with kindliest and most bountiful hand.

For hundreds of miles along the western or
right bank of the Missouri does a country extend,
with which, for fertility and natural resources,
no part of Europe can stand comparison. Suffi-
ciently large to contain an enormous population,
it has, besides, every advantage of position, and
all the natural capabilities which should make it
the happy abode of civilized man. Through this
unpeopled country the United States pours her
greedy thousands, to seize upon the barren terri-
tories of her feeble neighbor.

Camping the first night on Black Jack, our
mountaineers here cut each man a spare hickory
wiping-stick for his rifle ; and La Bonte, who was
the only greenhorn of the party, witnessed a sav-
age ebullition of rage on the part of one of his
companions, exhibiting the perfect unrestraint
which these men impose upon their passions, and
the barbarous anger which the slightest opposi-

106 IN THE OLD WEST

tion to their will excites. One of the trappers, on
arriving at the camping-place, dismounted from
his horse, and, after divesting it of the saddle, en-
deavored to lead his mule by the rope up to the
spot where he wished to deposit his pack. Mule-
like, however, the more he pulled the more stub-
bornly she remained in her tracks, planting her
fore legs firmly, and stretching out her neck with
provoking obstinacy. Truth to tell, it does re-
quire the temper of a thousand Jobs to manage a
mule ; and in no case does the willful mulishness of
the animal stir up one's choler more than in the
very trick this one played, and which is a daily
occurrence. After tugging ineffectually for sev-
eral minutes, winding the rope round his body,
and throwing himself suddenly forward with all
his strength, the trapper actually foamed with
passion ; and although he might have subdued the
animal at once by fastening the rope with a half-
hitch round its nose, this, with an obstinacy equal
to that of the mule itself, he refused to attempt,
preferring to vanquish her by main strength.
Failing so to do, the mountaineer, with a volley
of blasphemous imprecations, suddenly seized his
rifle, and, leveling it at the mule's head, shot her
dead.

Passing the Wa-ka-rasha,* a well-timbered
stream, they met a band of Osages going " to
buffalo." These Indians, in common with some

*Wakarusa. (Ed.)

IN THE OLD WEST 107

tribes of the Pawnees, shave the head, with the
exception of a ridge from the forehead to the
center of the scalp, which is reached or hogged
like the mane of a mule, and stands erect, plas-
tered with unguents, and ornamented with feathers
of the hawk and turkey. The naked scalp is often
painted in mosaic with black and red, the face
with shining vermilion. This band were all naked
to the breech-clout, the warmth of the sun hav-
ing made them throw their dirty blankets from
their shoulders. These Indians not unfrequently
levy contributions on the strangers they accident-
ally meet ; but they easily distinguish the deter-
mined mountaineer from the incautious greenhorn,
and think it better to let the former alone.

Crossing Vermilion, the trappers arrived on the
fifth day at Blue, where they encamped in the
broad timber belting the creek, and there awaited
the arrival of the remainder of the party.

It was two days before they came up ; but the
following day they started for the mountains,
fourteen in number, striking a trail which follows
the Big Blue in its course through the prairies,
which, as they advanced to the westward, gradually
smoothed away into a vast unbroken expanse of
rolling plain. Herds of antelope began to show
themselves, and some of the hunters, leaving the
trail, soon returned with plenty of their tender
meat. The luxuriant but coarse grass they had
hitherto seen now changed into the nutritious and

108 IN THE OLD WEST

curly buffalo grass, and their animals soon im-
proved in appearance on the excellent pasture.
In a few days, without any adventure, they struck
the Platte River, its shallow waters (from which
it derives its name) spreading over a wide and
sandy bed, numerous sand-bars obstructing the
sluggish current, nowhere sufficiently deep to wet
the forder's knee.

By this time, but few antelope having been seen,
the party ran entirely out of meat ; and one whole
day and part of another having passed without
so much as a stray rabbit presenting itself, not
a few objurgations on the buffalo grumbled from
the lips of the hunters, who expected ere this to
have reached the land of plenty. La Bonte killed
a fine deer, however, in the river bottom, after they
had encamped, not one particle of which remained
after supper that night, but which hardly took the
rough edge off their keen appetites. Although
already in the buffalo range, no traces of these
animals had yet been seen; and as the country
afforded but little game, and the party did not
care to halt and lose time in hunting for it, they
moved along hungry and sulky, the theme of con-
versation being the well-remembered merits of
good buffalo-meat, — of fat fleece, hump-rib, and
tenderloin ; of delicious " boudins," and marrow-
bones too good to think of. La Bonte had never
seen the lordly animal, and consequently but half
believed the accounts of the mountaineers, who de-

IN THE OLD WEST 109

scribed their countless bands as covering the
prairie far as the eye could reach, and requiring
days of travel to pass through ; but the visions
of such dainty and abundant feeding as they des-
canted on set his mouth watering, and danced
before his eyes as he slept supperless, night after
night, on the banks of the hungry Platte.

One morning he had packed his animals before
the rest, and was riding a mile in advance of the
party, when he s&w on one side the trail, looming
in the refracted glare which mirages the plains,
three large dark objects without shape or form,
which rose and fell in the exaggerated light like
ships at sea. Doubting what it could be, he ap-
proached the strange objects; and as the refrac-
tion disappeared before him, the dark masses as-
sumed a more distinct form, and clearly moved
with life. A little nearer, and he made them out :
they were buffalo. Thinking to distinguish him-
self, the greenhorn dismounted from his mule and
quickly hobbled her, throwing his lasso on the
ground to trail behind when he wished to catch
her. Then, rifle in hand, he approached the huge
animals, and, being a good hunter, knew well to
take advantage of the inequalities of the ground
and face the wind ; by which means he crawled at
length to within forty yards of the buffalo, which
quietly cropped the grass, unconscious of danger.
Now, for the first time, he gazed upon the noble
beast he had so often heard of and longed to see.

110 IN THE OLD WEST

With coal-black beard sweeping the ground as he
fed, an enormous bull was in advance of the others,
his wild brilliant eyes peering from an immense
mass of shaggy hair, which covered his neck and
shoulder. From this point his skin was smooth
as one's hand, a sleek and shining dun, and his
ribs were well covered with shaking flesh. Whilst
leisurely cropping the short curly grass, he oc-
casionally lifted his tail into the air, and stamped
his foot as a fly or mosquito annoyed him — flap-
ping the intruder with his tail, or snatching at
the itching part with his ponderous head.

When La Bonte had sufficiently admired the
buffalo, he lifted his rifle, and, taking steady aim,
and certain of his mark, pulled the trigger, ex-
pecting to see the huge beast fall over at the re-
port. What was his surprise and consternation,
however, to see the animal only flinch when the ball
struck him, and then gallop off, followed by the
others, apparently unhurt. As is generally the
case with greenhorns, he had fired too high, igno-
rant that the only certain spot to strike a buffalo
is but a few inches above the brisket, and that a
higher shot is rarely fatal. When he rose from
the ground he saw all the party halting in full
view of his discomfiture; and when he joined them,
loud were the laughs, and deep the regrets of the
hungry at his first attempt.

However, they now knew that they were in the
country of meat ; and a few miles farther, another

IN THE OLD WEST 111

band of stragglers presenting themselves, three of
the hunters went in pursuit, La Bonte taking a
mule to pack in the meat. He soon saw them
crawling towards the band, and shortly two puffs
of smoke, and the sharp cracks of their rifles,
showed that they had got within shot; and when
he rode up, two fine buffaloes were stretched upon
the ground. Now, for the first time, he was in-
itiated in the mysteries of butchering. He
watched the hunters as they turned the carcass
on the belly, stretching out the legs to support
it on each side. A transverse cut was then made
at the nape of the neck, and, gathering the long
hair of the boss in one hand, the skin was separated
from the shoulder. It was then laid open from
this point to the tail, along the spine, and then,
freed from the sides and pulled down to the bris-
ket, but still attached to it, was stretched upon
the ground to receive the dissected portions.
Then the shoulder was severed, the fleece removed
from along the backbone, and the hump-ribs cut
off with a tomahawk. All this was placed upon
the skin ; and after the " boudins " had been with-
drawn from the stomach, and the tongue — a
great dainty — taken from the head, the meat was
packed upon the mule, and the whole party hurried
to camp rejoicing.

There was merry-making in the camp that night,
and the way they indulged their appetites — or, in
their own language, " throwed " the meat " cold "

IN THE OLD WEST

— would have made the heart of a dyspeptic leap
for joy or burst with envy. Far into the " still
watches of the tranquil night," the fat-clad " de-
pouille " saw its fleshy mass grow small by de-
grees and beautifully less before the trenchant
blades of the hungry mountaineers ; appetizing
yards of well-browned " boudin " slipped glibly
down their throats ; rib after rib of tender hump
was picked and flung to the wolves ; and when
human nature, with helpless gratitude, and con-
fident that nothing of superexcellent comestibility
remained, was lazily wiping the greasy knife that
had done such good service, a skillful hunter was
seen to chuckle to himself as he raked the deep
ashes of the fire, and drew therefrom a pair of
tongues so admirably baked, so soft, so sweet, and
of such exquisite flavor, that a veil is considerately
drawn over the effects their discussion produced
in the mind of our greenhorn La Bonte, and the
raptures they excited in the bosom of that, as yet,
most ignorant mountaineer. Still, as he ate he
wondered, and wondering admired, that nature,
in giving him such profound gastronomic powers,
and such transcendent capabilities of digestion,
had yet bountifully provided an edible so peculiarly
adapted to his ostrich-like appetite, that after
consuming nearly his own weight in rich and fat
buffalo-meat, he felt as easy and as little incom-
moded as if he had lightly supped on strawberries
and cream.

IN THE OLD WEST 113

Sweet was the digestive pipe after such -a feast ;
soft was the sleep and deep, which sealed the eyes
of the contented trappers that night. It felt like
the old thing, they said, to be once more amongst
the " meat " ; and, as they were drawing near the
dangerous portion of the trail, they felt at home;
although they now could never be confident, when
they lay down at night upon their buffalo-robes,
of awaking again in this life, knowing, as they
did, full well, that savage men lurked near, thirst-
ing for their blood.

However, no enemies showed themselves as yet,
and they proceeded quietly up the river, vast herds
of buffaloes darkening the plains around them,
affording them more than abundance of the choic-
est meat; but, to their credit be it spoken, no
more was killed than was absolutely required —
unlike the cruel slaughter made by most of the
white travelers across the plains, who wantonly
destroy these noble animals, not even for the ex-
citement of sport, but in cold-blooded and insane
butchery. La Bonte had practice enough to per-
fect him in the art, and, before the buffalo
range was passed, he was ranked as a first-rate
hunter.

One evening he had left the camp for meat, and
was approaching a band of cows for that pur-
pose, crawling towards them along the bed of
a dry hollow in the prairie, when he observed
them suddenly jump towards him, and immediately

1U IN THE OLD WEST

afterwards a score of mounted Indians appeared,
whom, by their dress, he at once knew to be Paw-
nees and enemies. Thinking they might not dis-
cover him, he crouched down in the ravine; but a
noise behind caused him to turn his head, and he
saw some five or six advancing up the bed of the
dry creek, whilst several more were riding on the
bluffs. The cunning savages had cut off his re-
treat to his mule, which he saw in the possession
of one of them. His presence of mind, however,
did not desert him ; and seeing at once that to re-
main where he was would be like being caught in
a trap (as the Indians could advance to the edge
of the bluff and shoot him from above), he made
for the open prairie, determined at least to sell
his scalp dearly, and make a good fight. With a
yell the Indians charged, but halted when they
saw the sturdy trapper deliberately kneel, and,
resting his rifle on the wiping-stick, take a steady
aim as they advanced. Full well the Pawnees
know, to their cost, that a mountaineer seldom
pulls his trigger without sending a bullet to the
mark; and, certain that one at least must fall,
they hesitated to make the onslaught. Steadily
the white retreated with his face to the foe, bring-
ing the rifle to his shoulder the instant that one
advanced within shot, the Indians galloping round,
firing the few guns they had amongst them at long
distances, but without effect. One young brave,
more daring than the rest, rode out of the crowd,

IN THE OLD WEST 115

and dashed at the hunter, throwing himself, as
he passed within a few yards, from the saddle,
and hanging over the opposite side of his horse,
thus presenting no other mark than his left foot.
As he crossed La Bonte, he discharged his bow
from under his horse's neck, and with such good
aim, that the arrow, whizzing through the air,
struck the stock of the hunter's rifle, which was
at his shoulder, and, glancing off, pierced his arm,
inflicting, luckily, but a slight wound. Again the
Indian turned in his course, the others encourag-
ing him with loud war-whoops, and once more,
passing at still less distance, he drew his arrow
to the head. This time, however, the eagle eye
of the white detected the action, and suddenly ris-
ing from his knee as the Indian approached (hang-
ing by his foot alone over the opposite side of the
horse), he jumped towards the animal with out-
stretched arms and a loud yell, causing it to start
suddenly, and swerve from its course. The In-
dian lost his foot-hold, and, after a fruitless strug-
gle to regain his position, fell to the ground; but
instantly rose upon his feet and gallantly con-
fronted the mountaineer, striking his hand upon
his brawny chest and shouting a loud whoop of
defiance. In another instant the rifle of La Bonte
had poured forth its contents ; and the brave sav-
age, springing into the air, fell dead to the ground,
just as the other trappers, who had heard the fir-
ing, galloped up to the spot. At sight of them

116 IN THE OLD WEST

the Pawnees, with yells of disappointed vengeance,
hastily retreated.

That night La Bonte first lifted hair!

A few days after, the mountaineers reached the
point where the Platte divides into two great forks :
the northern one, stretching to the north-west,
skirts the eastern base of the Black Hills, and,
sweeping round to the south, rises in the vicinity
of the mountain valley called the New Park, re-
ceiving the Laramie, Medicine Bow, and Sweet-
water creeks. The other, or South Fork, strikes
towards the mountains in a south-westerly direc-
tion, hugging the base of the main chain of the
Rocky Mountains ; and, fed by several small
creeks, rises in the uplands of the Bayou Salade,
near which is also the source of the Arkansa. To
the forks of the Platte the valley of that river
extends from three to five miles on each side, in-
closed by steep sandy bluffs, from the summits of
which the prairies stretch away in broad undulat-
ing expanse to the north and south. The bot-
tom, as it is termed, is but thinly covered with
timber, the cotton woods being scattered only here
and there ; but some of the islands in the broad
bed of the stream are well wooded, leading to the
inference that the trees on the banks have been
felled by Indians who formerly frequented the
neighborhood of this river as a chosen hunting-
ground. As, during the long winters, the pasture
in the vicinity is scarce and withered, the Indians

IN THE OLD WEST 117

fefed their horses on the bark of the sweet cotton
wood, upon which they subsist, and even fatten.
Thus, wherever a village has encamped, the trunks
of these trees strew the ground, their upper limbs
and smaller branches peeled of their bark, and
looking as white and smooth as if scraped with a
knife.

On the forks, however, the timber is heavier and
of greater variety, some of the creeks being well
wooded with ash and cherry, which break the mo-
notony of the everlasting cotton wood.

Dense masses of buffalo still continued to
darken the plains, and numerous bands of wolves
hovered round the outskirts of the vast herds,
singling out the sick and wounded animals, and
preying upon such calves as the rifles and arrows
of the hunters had bereaved of their mothers.
The white wolf is the invariable attendant upon
the buffalo ; and when one of these persevering
animals is seen, it is a certain sign that buffalo
are not far distant. Besides the buffalo wolf,
there are four distinct varieties common to the
plains, and all more or less attendant upon the
buffalo. These are, the black, the gray, the
brown, and, last and least, the coyote or cayeute
of the mountaineers, the wachunkamanet, or
" medicine wolf " of the Indians, who hold the lat-
ter animal in reverential awe. This little wolf,
whose fur is of great thickness and beauty, is of
diminutive size, but wonderfully sagacious, making

118 IN THE OLD WEST

up by cunning what it wants in physical strength.
In bands of from three to thirty they not unfre-
quently station themselves along the " runs " of
the deer and the antelope, extending their line for
many miles ; and the quarry being started, each
wolf follows in pursuit until tired, when it relin-
quishes the chase to another relay, following
slowly after until the animal is fairly run down,
when all hurry to the spot and speedily consume
the carcass. The cayeute, however, is often made
a tool of by his larger brethren, unless, indeed,
he acts from motives of spontaneous charity.
When a hunter has slaughtered game, and is in
the act of butchering it, these little wolves sit
patiently at a short distance from the scene of
operations, while at a more respectful one the
larger wolves (the white or gray) lope hungrily
around, licking their chops in hungry expectation.
Not unfrequently the hunter throws a piece of
meat towards the smaller one, who seizes it im-
mediately, and runs off with the morsel in his
mouth. Before he gets many yards with his prize,
the large wolf pounces with a growl upon him,
and the cayeute, dropping the meat, returns to
his former position, and will continue his char-
itable act as long as the hunter pleases to supply
him.

Wolves are so common on the plains and in the
mountains, that the hunter never cares to throw
away a charge of ammunition upon them, al-

IN THE OLD WEST 119

though the ravenous animals are a constant source
of annoyance to him, creeping to the camp-fire
at night, and gnawing his saddles and apisha-
mores, eating the skin ropes which secure the horses
and mules to their pickets, and even their very
hobbles, and not unfrequently killing or entirely
disabling the animals themselves.

Round the camp, during the night, the cayeute
keeps unremitting watch, and the traveler not un-
frequently starts from his bed with affright, as
the mournful and unearthly chiding of the wolf
breaks suddenly upon his. ear: the long-drawn
howl being taken up by others of the band, until
it dies away in the distance, or some straggler
passing within hearing answers to the note, and
howls as he lopes away.

Our party crossed the south fork about ten
miles from its juncture with the main stream, and
then, passing the prairie, struck the north fork
a day's travel from the other. At the mouth of
an ash-timbered creek they came upon Indian
" sign," and as now they were in the vicinity of the
treacherous Sioux, they moved along with addi-
tional caution, Frapp and Gonneville, two expe-
rienced mountaineers, always heading the ad-
vance.

About noon they had crossed over to the left
bank of the fork, intending to camp on a large
creek where some fresh beaver sign had attracted
the attention of some of the trappers ; and as, on

120 IN THE OLD WEST

further examination, it appeared that two or three
lodges of that animal were not far distant, it was
determined to remain here a day or two, and set
their traps.

Gonneville, old Luke, and La Bonte, had started
up the creek, and were carefully examining the
banks for sign, when the former, who was in front,
suddenly paused, and, looking intently up the
stream, held up his hand to his companions to
signal them to stop.

Luke and La Bonte both followed the direction
of the trapper's intent and fixed gaze. The
former uttered in a suppressed tone the expressive
exclamation, Wagh ! — the latter saw nothing but
a wood-duck swimming swiftly down the stream,
followed by her downy progeny.

Gonneville turned his head, and, extending his
arm twice with a forward motion up the creek,
whispered, " Les sauvages."

" Injuns, sure, and Sioux at that," answered
Luke.

Still La Bonte looked, but nothing met his view
but the duck with her brood, now rapidly ap-
proaching; and as he gazed, the bird suddenly
took wing, and, flapping on the water, flew a short
distance down the stream and once more settled
on it.

" Injuns? " he asked; " where are they? "

" Whar? " repeated old Luke, striking the flint
of his rifle, and opening the pan to examine the

IN THE OLD WEST

(priming. " What brings a duck a-streakin' it
down stream if humans ain't behint her? and who's
thar in these diggins but Injuns, and the worst
kind? and we'd better push to camp, I'm think-
ing, if we mean to save our hair."

" Sign " sufficient, indeed, it was to all the
trappers, who, on being apprised of it, instantly
drove in their animals and picketed them; and
hardly had they done so when a band of Indians
made their appearance on the banks of the creek,
from whence they galloped to the bluff which over-
looked the camp at the distance of about six hun-
dred yards ; and crowning this in number some
forty or more, commenced brandishing their spears
and guns, and whooping loud yells of defiance.
The trappers had formed a little breastwork of
their packs, forming a semicircle, the chord of
which was made by the animals standing in a line,
side by side, closely picketed and hobbled. Behind
this defense stood the mountaineers, rifle in hand,
and silent and determined. The Indians presently
descended the bluff on foot, leaving their animals
in charge of a few of the party, and, scattering,
advanced, under cover of the sage-bushes which
dotted the bottom, to about two hundred yards
of the whites. Then a chief advanced before the
rest, and made the sign for a talk with the Long-
knives, which led to a consultation amongst the
latter as to the policy of acceding to it. They
were in doubts as to the nation these Indians be-

IN THE OLD WEST

longed to, some bands of the Sioux being friendly,
and others bitterly hostile, to the whites.

Gonneville, who spoke the Sioux language, and
was well acquainted with the nation, affirmed they
belonged to a band called the Yanka-taus,* well
known to be the most evil-disposed of that treach-
erous nation; another of the party maintained
they were Brules, and that the chief advancing
towards them was the well-known Tah-sha-tunga
or Bull Tail, a most friendly chief of that tribe.
The majority, however, trusted to Gonneville, and
he volunteered to go out to meet the Indian, and
hear what he had to say. Divesting himself of all
arms save his butcher-knife, he advanced towards
the savage, who awaited his approach enveloped
in the folds of his blanket. At a glance he knew
him to be a Yanka-tau, from the peculiar make
of his moccasins, and the way in which his face was
daubed with paint.

" Howgh ! " exclaimed both as they met ; and,
after a silence of a few moments, the Indian spoke,
asking — " Why the Long-knives hid behind their
packs when his band approached? Were they
afraid, or were they preparing a dog-feast to en-
tertain their friends? The whites were passing
through his country, burning his wood, drinking
his water, and killing his game ; but he knew they
had now come to pay for the mischief they had
done, and that the mules and horses they had

* Yanktons. (Ed.)

IN THE OLD WEST 123

brought with them were intended as a present to
their red friends.

" He was Mah-to-ga-shane," he said, " the Brave
Bear: his tongue was short, but his arm long;
and he loved rather to speak with his bow and his
lance than with the weapon of a squaw. He had
said it : the Long-knives had horses with them and
mules; and these were for him, he knew, and for
his braves. Let the White-face go back to his
people and return with the animals, or he, the
Brave Bear, would have to come and take them;
and his young men would get mad and would feel
blood in their eyes; and then he would have no
power over them; and the whites would have to
go under."

The trapper answered shortly. " The Long-
knives," he said, " had brought the horses for
themselves — their hearts were big, but not
towards the Yanka-taus; and if they had to give
up their animals, it would be to men and not
squaws. They were not ' wah-keitcha ' * (French
engages), but Long-knives; and, however short
were the tongues of the Yanka-taus, theirs were
still shorter, and their rifles longer. The Yanka-
taus were dogs and squaws, and the Long-knives
spat upon them."

*The French Canadians are called wah-keitcha — "bad
medicine " — by the Indians, who account them treacherous
and vindictive, and at the same time less daring than the
American hunters.

IN THE OLD WEST

Saying this, the trapper turned his back and
rej oined his companions ; whilst the Indian slowly
proceeded to his people, who, on learning the con-
temptuous way in which their threats had been
treated, testified their anger with loud yells ; and,
seeking whatever cover was afforded, commenced
a scattering volley upon the camp of the mountain-
eers. The latter reserved their fire, treating with
cool indifference the balls which began to rattle
about them ; but as the Indians, emboldened by this
apparent inaction, rushed for a closer position,
and exposed their bodies within a long range, half-
a-dozen rifles rang from the assailed, and two In-
dians fell dead, one or two more being wounded.
As yet, not one of the whites had been touched,
but several of the animals had received wounds
from the enemy's fire of balls and arrows. Indeed,
the Indians remained at too great a distance to
render the volleys from their crazy fusees anything
like effectual, and had to raise their pieces con-
siderably to make their bullets reach as far as
the camp. After three of their band had been
killed outright, and many more wounded, their
fire began to slacken, and they drew off to a
greater distance, evidently resolved to beat a re-
treat. Retiring to the bluff, they discharged their
pieces in a last volley, mounted their horses and
galloped off, carrying their wounded with them.
This last volley, however, although intended as a
mere bravado, unfortunately proved fatal to one

IN THE OLD WEST 125

of the whites. Gonneville, at the moment, was
standing on a pack, to get an uninterrupted sight
for a last shot, when one of the random bullets
struck him in the breast. La Bonte caught him
in his arms as he was about to fall, and laying the
wounded trapper gently on the ground, stripped
him of his buckskin hunting-frock, to examine the
wound. A glance was sufficient to convince his
companions that the blow was mortal. The ball
had passed through the lungs ; and in a few mo-
ments the throat of the wounded man swelled and
turned to a livid blue color, as the choking blood
ascended. Only a few drops of purple blood
trickled from the wound — a fatal sign — and the
eyes of the mountaineer were already glazing with
death's icy touch. His hand still grasped the
barrel of his rifle, which had done good service in
the fray. Anon he essayed to speak, but, choked
with blood, only a few inarticulate words reached
the ears of his companions as they bent over
him.

" Rubbed — out — at — last," they heard him
say, the words gurgling in his blood-filled throat ;
and opening his eyes once more, and turning them
upwards for a last look at the bright sun, the
trapper turned gently on his side and breathed his
last sigh.

With no other tools than their scalp-knives, the
hunters dug a grave on the banks of the creek ; and
whilst some were engaged in this work, others

126 IN THE OLD WEST

sought the bodies of the Indians they had slain in
the attack, and presently returned with three reek-
ing scalps, the trophies of the fight. The body
of the mountaineer was wrapped in a buffalo-robe,
the scalps being placed on his breast, and the dead
man was then laid in the shallow grave, and quickly
covered — without a word of prayer or sigh of
grief ; for however much his companions may have
felt, not a word escaped them. The bitten lip and
frowning brow told of anger rather than of sorrow,
as they vowed — what they thought would better
please the spirit of the dead man than vain regrets
— bloody and lasting revenge.

Tramping down the earth which filled the grave,
they raised upon it a pile of heavy stones ; and
packing their mules once more, and taking a last
look at their comrade's lonely resting-place, they
turned their backs upon the stream, which has
ever since been known as Gonneville's Creek.

If the reader casts his eye over any of the recent
maps of the western country which detail the fea-
tures of the regions embracing the Rocky Moun-
tains and the vast prairies at their bases, he will
not fail to observe that many of the creeks or
smaller streams which feed the larger rivers — as
the Missouri, Platte, and Arkansa — are called by
familiar proper names, both English and French.
These are invariably christened after some unfor-
tunate trapper killed there in Indian fight, or
treacherously slaughtered by the lurking savages,

IN THE OLD WEST 127

while engaged in trapping beaver on the stream.
Thus alone is the memory of these hardy men per-
petuated, at least of those whose fate is ascer-
tained ; for many, in every season, never return
from their hunting expeditions, but meet a sudden
death from Indians, or a more lingering fate from
accident or disease in some lonely gorge of the
mountains, where no footfall save their own, or
the heavy tread of the grizzly bear, disturbs the
unbroken silence of the awful solitude. Then, as
many winters pass without some old familiar faces
making their appearance at the merry rendezvous,
their long-protracted absence may perhaps elicit
a remark, as to where such and such a mountain
worthy can have betaken himself; to which the
casual rejoinder of " Gone under, maybe," too
often gives a short but certain answer.

In all the philosophy of hardened hearts, our
hunters turned from the spot where the un-
mourned trapper met his death. La Bonte, how-
ever, not yet entirely steeled by mountain life to
a perfect indifference to human feeling, drew his
hard hand across his eye, as the unbidden tear
rose from his rough but kindly heart. He could
not forget so soon the comrade he had lost; the
companion in the hunt or over the cheerful camp-
fire ; the narrator of many a tale of dangers past
— of sufferings from hunger, cold, thirst, and un-
tended wounds — of Indian perils, and other vicis-
situdes. One tear dropped from the young

128 IN THE OLD WEST

hunter's eye, and rolled down his cheek — the last
for many a long year.

In the forks of the northern branch of the
Platte, formed by the junction of the Laramie,
they found a big village of the Sioux encamped
near the station of one of the fur companies.
Here the party broke up ; many, finding the alco-
hol of the traders an impediment to their further
progress, remained some time in the vicinity, while
La Bonte, Luke, and a trapper named Marcelline,
started in a few days to the mountains, to trap on
Sweetwater and Medicine Bow. They had lei-
sure, however, to observe all the rascalities con-
nected with the Indian trade, although at this
season (August) hardly commenced. However, a
band of Indians having come in with several packs
of last year's robes, and being anxious to start
speedily on their return, a trader from one of the
forts had erected his lodge in the village.

Here he set to work immediately to induce the
Indians to trade. First, a chief appoints three
" soldiers " to guard the trader's lodge from intru-
sion ; and these sentries amongst the thieving fra-
ternity can be invariably trusted. Then the In-
dians are invited to have a drink — a taste of the
fire-water being given to all to incite them to trade.
As the crowd presses upon the entrance to the
lodge, and those in rear become impatient, some
large-mouthed savage who has received a portion
of the spirit makes his way, with his mouth full

IN THE OLD WEST 129

of the liquor and cheeks distended, through the
throng, and is instantly surrounded by his par-
ticular friends. Drawing the face of each, by
turns, near his own, he squirts a small quantity
into his open mouth, until the supply is exhausted,
when he returns for more, and repeats the gener-
ous distribution.

When paying for the robes, the traders, in
measuring out the liquor in a tin half-pint cup,
thrust their thumbs or the four fingers of the hand
into the measure, in order that it may contain the
less, or not unfrequently fill the bottom with melted
buffalo fat, with the same object. So greedy
are the Indians that they never discover the cheat,
and, once under the influence of the liquor, cannot
distinguish between the first cup of comparatively
strong spirit, and the following ones diluted five
hundred per cent., and poisonously drugged to
boot.

Scenes of drunkenness, riot, and bloodshed last
until the trade is over. In the winter it occupies
several weeks, during which period the Indians
present the appearance, under the demoralizing
influence of the liquor, of demons rather than of
men.

CHAPTER IV

LA BONTE and his companions proceeded up
the river, the Black Hills on their left hand,
from which several small creeks or feeders
swell the waters of the North Fork. Along these
they hunted unsuccessfully for beaver sign, and
it was evident the spring hunt had almost exter-
minated the animal in this vicinity. Following
Deer Creek to the ridge of the Black Hills, they
crossed the mountain on to the waters of the Medi-
cine Bow, and here they discovered a few lodges,
and La Bonte set his first trap. He and old Luke
finding cuttings near the camp, followed the sign
along the bank, until the practiced eye of the
latter discovered a slide, where the beaver had
ascended the bank to chop the trunk of a cotton-
wood, and convey the bark to its lodge. Taking a
trap from his sack, the old hunter, after setting
the trigger, placed it carefully under the water,
where the slide entered the stream, securing the
chain to the stem of a sapling on the bank ; while
a stick, also attached to the trap by a thong,
floated down the stream, to mark the position of
the trap should the animal carry it away. A little

further on, and near another run, three traps were
130

IN THE OLD WEST 131

set; and over these Luke placed a little stick,
which he first dipped into a mysterious-looking
phial containing his " medicine." *

The next morning they visited the traps, and
had the satisfaction of finding three fine beaver
secured in the first three they visited, and the
fourth, which had been carried away, they dis-
covered by the float-stick a little distance down
the stream, with a large drowned beaver between
its teeth.

The animals being carefully skinned, they re-
turned to camp with the choicest portions of the
meat, and the tails, on which they most luxuri-
ously supped; and La Bonte was fain to confess
that all his ideas of the superexcellence of buffalo
were thrown in the shade by the delicious beaver-
tail, the rich meat of which he was compelled to
allow was " great eating," unsurpassed by tender-
loin or " boudin," or other meat of whatever kind
he had eaten of before.

The country where La Bonte and his com-
panions were trapping is very curiously situated
in the extensive bend of the Platte which incloses
the Black Hill range on the north, and which
bounds the large expanse of broken tract known
as the Laramie Plains, their southern limit being
the base of the Medicine Bow Mountains. From
the north-western corner of the bend, an incon-

* A substance obtained from a gland in the scrotum of
the beaver, and used to attract that animal to the trap.

132 IN THE OLD WEST

siderable range extends to the westward, gradually
increasing in height until it reaches an elevated
plain, which forms a break in the stupendous chain
of the Rocky Mountains, and affords the easy pas-
sage now known as the Great, or South Pass.
So gradual is the ascent of this portion of the
mountain, that the traveler can scarcely believe
he is crossing the dividing ridge between the waters
which flow into the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans,
and that in a few minutes he can fling two sticks
into two neighboring streams, one to be carried
thousands of miles, traversed by the eastern waters
in their course to the Gulf of Mexico, the other to
be borne a lesser distance to the Gulf of California.

The country is frequented by the Crows and
Snakes, who are at perpetual war with the Shians
and Sioux, following them often far down the
Platte, where many bloody battles have taken
place. The Crows are esteemed friendly to the
whites ; but when on war expeditions, and " hair "
their object, it is always dangerous to fall in with
Indian war-parties, and particularly in the remote
regions of the mountains, where they do not an-
ticipate retaliation.

Trapping with tolerable success in this vicinity,
the hunters crossed over, as soon as the pre-
monitory storms of approaching winter warned
them to leave the mountains, to the waters of Green
River, one of the affluents of the Colorado, intend-
ing to winter at a rendezvous to be held in

IN THE OLD WEST 133

Brown's Hole — an inclosed valley so called —
which, abounding in game, and sheltered on every
side by lofty mountains, is a favorite wintering-
ground of the mountaineers. Here they found
several trapping bands already arrived; and a
trader from the Uintah country, with store of
powder, lead, and tobacco, prepared to ease them
of their hard-earned peltries.

Singly, and in bands numbering from two to
ten, the trappers dropped into the rendezvous ;
some with many pack-loads of beaver, others with
greater or less quantity, and more than one on
foot, having lost his animals and peltry by Indian
thieving. Here were soon congregated many
mountaineers, whose names are famous in the his-
tory of the Far West. Fitzpatrick and Hatcher,
and old Bill Williams, well-known leaders of trap-
ping parties, soon arrived with their bands.
Sublette came in with his men from Yellow Stone,
and many of Wyeth's New Englanders were there.
Chabonard with his half-breeds, Wah-keitchas all,
brought his peltries from the lower country ; and
half-a-dozen Shawanee and Delaware Indians, with
a Mexican from Taos, one Marcelline, a fine strap-
ping fellow, the best trapper and hunter in the
mountains, and ever first in the fight. Here, too,
arrived the " Bourgeois " traders of the " North-
West " * Company, with their superior equipments,

* The Hudson's Bay Company is so called by the Ameri-
can trappers.

134 IN THE OLD WEST

ready to meet their trappers, and purchase the
beaver at an equitable value; and soon the trade
opened, and the encampment assumed a busy ap-
pearance.

A curious assemblage did the rendezvous pre-
sent, and representatives of many a land met there.
A son of la belle France here lit his pipe from one
proffered by a native of New Mexico. An Eng-
lishman and a Sandwich Islander cut a quid from
the same plug of tobacco. A Swede and an old
Virginian puffed together. A Shawanee blew a
peaceful cloud with a scion of the Six Nations.
One from the Land of Cakes — a canny chiel —
sought to " great round " (in trade) a right
" smart" Yankee, but couldn't "shine."

The beaver went briskly, six dollars being the
price paid per Ib. in goods — for money is sel-
dom given in the mountain market, where beaver
is cash, for which the articles supplied by the
traders are bartered. In a very short time pel-
tries of every description had changed hands,
either by trade, or by gambling with cards and
betting. With the mountain-men bets decide
every question that is raised, even the most trivial ;
and if the editor of " Bell's Life " were to pay
one of these rendezvous a winter visit, he would
find the broad sheet of his paper hardly capacious
enough to answer all the questions which would
be referred to his decision.

Before the winter was over, La Bonte had lost

IN THE OLD WEST 135

all traces of civilized humanity, and might justly
claim to be considered as " hard a case " as any
of the mountaineers then present. Long before
the spring opened, he had lost all the produce of
his hunt and both his animals, which, however,
by a stroke of luck, he recovered, and wisely held
on to for the future. Right glad when spring
appeared, he started from Brown's Hole, with
four companions, to hunt the Uintah or Snake
country, and the affluents of the larger streams
which rise in that region and fall into the Gulf
of California.

In the valley of the Bear River they found
beaver abundant, and trapped their way west-
ward until they came upon the famed locality of
the Beer and Soda Springs — natural fountains
of mineral water, renowned amongst the trappers
as being " medicine " of the first order.

Arriving one evening, about sundown, at the
Bear Spring, they found a solitary trapper sit-
ting over the rocky basin, intently regarding,
with no little awe, the curious phenomenon of the
bubbling gas. Behind him were piled his saddles
and a pack of skins, and at a little distance a
hobbled Indian pony fed amongst the cedars which
formed a grove round the spring. As the three
hunters dismounted from their animals, the lone
trapper scarcely noticed their arrival, his eyes
being still intently fixed upon the water. Look-
ing round at last, he was instantly recognized

136 IN THE OLD WEST

by one of La Bonte's companions, and saluted
as " Old Rube." Dressed from head to foot in
buckskin, his face, neck, and hands appeared to
be of the same leathery texture, so nearly did
they assimilate in color to the materials of his
dress. He was at least six feet two or three in
his moccasins, straight-limbed and wiry, with
long arms ending in hands of tremendous grasp,
and a quantity of straight black hair hanging on
his shoulders. His features, which were undeni-
ably good, wore an expression of comical gravity,
never relaxing into a smile, which a broad good-
humored mouth could have grinned from ear to
ear.

" What, boys ! " he said, " will you be simple
enough to camp here alongside these springs?
Nothing good ever came of sleeping here, I tell
you, and the worst kind of devils are in those
dancing waters."

"Why, old hoss," cried La Bonte, "what
brings you hyar then, and camp at that? "

" This nigger," answered Rube, solemnly,
" has been down'd upon a sight too often to be
skeared by what can come out from them waters ;
and thar arn't a devil as hisses thar as can shine
with this child, I tell you. I've tried him onest,
an' f out him to clawin' away to Eustis ; * and if

* A small lake near the head-waters of the Yellow Stone,
near which are some curious thermal springs of ink-black
water.

IN THE OLD WEST 137

I draws my knife again on such varmint, I'll raise
his hair, as sure as shootin'. "

Spite of the reputed dangers of the locality,
the trappers camped on the spot, and many a
draught of the delicious sparkling water they
quaffed in honor of the " medicine " of the fount.
Rube, however, sat sulky and silent, his huge
form bending over his legs, which were crossed,
Indian fashion, under him, and his long bony
fingers spread over the fire, which had been made
handy to the spring. At last they elicited from
him that he had sought this spot for the purpose
of " making medicine," having been persecuted
by extraordinary ill-luck, even at this early period
of his hunt — the Indians having stolen two out
of his three animals, and three of his half-dozen
traps. He had therefore sought the springs for
the purpose of invoking the fountain spirits,
which, a perfect Indian in his simple heart, he
implicitly believed to inhabit their mysterious
waters. When the others had, as he thought,
fallen asleep, La Bonte observed the ill-starred
trapper take from his pouch a curiously-carved
red stone pipe, which he carefully charged with
tobacco and kinnik-kinnik. Then approaching
the spring, he walked three times round it, and
gravely sat himself down. Striking fire with his
flint and steel, he lit his pipe, and bending the
stem three several times towards the water, he in-
haled a vast quantity of smoke, and bending back

138 IN THE OLD WEST

his neck and looking upwards, puffed it into the
air. He then blew another puff towards the four
points of the compass, and emptying the pipe
into his hand, cast the consecrated contents into
the spring, saying a few Indian " medicine "
words of cabalistic import. Having performed
the ceremony to his satisfaction, he returned to
the fire, smoked a pipe on his own hook, and
turned into his buffalo-robe, conscious of having
done a most important duty.

In the course of their trapping expedition, and
accompanied by Rube, who knew the country well,
they passed near the Great Salt Lake, a vast in-
land sea, whose salitrose waters cover an extent
of upwards of one hundred and forty miles in
length, by eighty in breadth. Fed by several
streams, of which the Big Bear River is the most
considerable, this lake presents the curious phe-
nomenon of a vast body of water without any
known outlet. According to the trappers, an is-
land, from which rises a chain of lofty mountains,
nearly divides the north-western portion of the
lake, whilst a smaller one, within twelve miles of
the northern shore, rises six hundred feet from the
level of the water. Rube declared to his compan-
ions that the larger island was known by the In-
dians to be inhabited by a race of giants, with
whom no communication had ever been held by
mortal man; and but for the casual wafting to
the shores of the lake of logs of gigantic trees,

IN THE OLD WEST 139

cut by axes of extraordinary size, the world would
never have known that such a people existed.
They were, moreover, white as themselves, and
lived upon corn and fruits, and rode on ele-
phants, &c.

Whilst following a small creek at the south-
west extremity of the lake, they came upon a band
of miserable Indians, who, from the fact of their
subsisting chiefly on roots, are called the Dig-
gers. At first sight of the whites they immedi-
ately fled from their wretched huts, and made
towards the mountains ; but one of the trappers,
galloping up on his horse, cut off their retreat,
and drove them like sheep before him back to their
village. A few of these wretched creatures came
into camp at sundown, and were regaled with such
meat as the larder afforded. They appeared to
have no other food in their village but bags of
dried ants and their larvae, and a few roots of the
yampah. Their huts were constructed of a few
bushes of greasewood, piled up as a sort of wind-
break, in which they huddled in their filthy skins.
During the night they crawled up to the camp
and stole two of the horses, and the next morning
not a sign of them was visible. Now La Bonte
witnessed a case of mountain law, and the practi-
cal effects of the lex talionis of the Far West.

The trail of the runaway Diggers bore to the
north-west, or along the skirt of a barren water-
less desert, which stretches far away from the

140 IN THE OLD WEST

southern shores of the Salt Lake to the borders
of Upper California. La Bonte, with three
others, determined to follow the thieves, recover
their animals, and then rejoin the other two (Luke
and Rube) on a creek two days' journey from
their present camp. Starting at sunrise, they
rode on at a rapid pace all day, closely follow-
ing the trail, which led directly to the north-west,
through a wretched sandy country, without game
or water. From the appearance of the track, the
Indians must still have been several hours ahead
of them, when the fatigue of their horses, suffer-
ing from want of grass and water, compelled them
to camp near the head of a small water-course,
where they luckily found a hole containing a little
water, and whence a broad Indian trail passed,
apparently frequently used. Long before day-
light they were again in the saddle, and, after
proceeding a few miles, saw the lights of several
fires a short distance ahead of them. Halting
here, one of the party advanced on foot to recon-
noiter, and presently returned with the intelli-
gence that the party they were in pursuit of had
joined a village numbering thirty or forty huts.

Loosening their girths, they permitted their
tired animals to feed on the scanty herbage which
presented itself, whilst they refreshed themselves
with a pipe of tobacco — for they had no meat
of any description with them, and the country
afforded no game. As the first streak of dawn

IN THE OLD WEST 141

appeared in the east, they mounted their horses,
after first examining their rifles, and moved cau-
tiously towards the Indian village. As it was
scarcely light enough for their operations, they
waited behind a sandhill in the vicinity until ob-
jects became more distinct; and then, emerging
from their cover with loud war-whoops, they
charged abreast into the midst of the village.

As the frightened Indians were scarcely risen-
from their beds, no opposition was given to the
daring mountaineers, who, rushing upon the fly-
ing crowd, discharged their rifles at close quar-
ters, and then, springing from their horses, at-
tacked them knife in hand, and only ceased the
work of butchery when nine Indians lay dead
upon the ground. All this time the women, half
dead with fright, were huddled together on the
ground, howling piteously ; and the mountaineers,
advancing to them, whirled their lassos round
their heads, and, throwing the open nooses into
the midst, hauled out three of them, and securing
their arms in the rope, bound them to a tree,
and then proceeded to scalp the dead bodies.
Whilst they were engaged in this work, an old
Indian, withered and grisly, and hardly bigger
than an ape, suddenly emerged from a rock, hold-
ing in his left hand a bow and a handful of arrows,
whilst one was already drawn to the head. Run-
ning towards them, and almost before the hunters
were aware of his presence, he discharged an

IN THE OLD WEST

arrow at a few yards' distance, which buried it-
self in the ground not a foot from La Bonte's
head as he bent over the body of the Indian he was
scalping; and hardly had the whiz ceased, when
whirr flew another, striking him in his right shoul-
der. Before the Indian could fit a third arrow to
his bow, La Bonte sprang upon him, seized him
by the middle, and spinning his pigmy form round
his head as easily as he would have twirled a toma-
hawk, he threw him with tremendous force on the
ground at the feet of one of his companions, who,
stooping down, coolly thrust his knife into the
Indian's breast, and quickly tore off his scalp.

The slaughter over, without casting an eye to
the captive squaws, the trappers proceeded to
search the village for food, of which they stood
much in need. Nothing, however, was found but
a few bags of dried ants, which, after eating
voraciously of, but with wry mouths, they threw
aside, saying the food was worse than " poor
(bull." They found, however, the animals they
had been robbed of, and two more besides —
wretched half-starved creatures; and on these
mounting their captives, they hurried away on
their journey back to their companions, the dis-
tance being computed at three days' travel from
their present position. However, they thought,
by taking a more direct course, they might find
better pasture for their animals, and water, be-
sides saving at least half a day by the short cut.

IN THE OLD WEST 143

To their cost, they proved the old saying, that
" a short cut is always a long road," as will be
presently shown.

It has been said that from the south-western
extremity of the Great Salt Lake a vast desert
extends for hundreds of miles, unbroken by the
slightest vegetation, destitute of game and water,
and presenting a cheerless expanse of sandy plain
or rugged mountain, thinly covered with dwarf
pine or cedar, the only evidence of vegetable life.
Into this desert, ignorant of the country, the
trappers struck, intending to make their short
cut; and, traveling on all day, were compelled to
camp at night without water or pasture for their
exhausted animals, and themselves ravenous with
hunger and parched with thirst. The next day
three of their animals gave out, and they were
fain to leave them behind; but imagining that
they must soon strike a creek, they pushed on
until noon, but still no water presented itself,
nor a sign of game of any description. The ani-
mals were nearly exhausted, and a horse which
could scarcely keep up with the slow pace of the
others was killed, and its blood greedily drunk
— a portion of the flesh being eaten raw, and a
supply carried with them for future emergencies.

The next morning two of the horses lay dead
at their pickets, and one only remained, and this
in such a miserable state that it could not possibly
have traveled six miles further. It was there-

144 IN THE OLD WEST

fore killed, and its blood drunk, of which, how-
ever, the captive squaws refused to partake. The
men began to feel the effects of their consuming
thirst, which the hot horse's blood only served to
increase ; their lips became parched and swollen,
their eyes bloodshot, and a giddy sickness seized
them at intervals. About mid-day they came in
sight of a mountain on their right hand, which ap-
peared to be more thickly clothed with vegetation ;
and arguing from this that water would be found
there, they left their course and made towards it,
although some eight or ten miles distant. On ar-
riving at the base, the most minute search failed
to discover the slightest traces of water, and the
vegetation merely consisted of dwarf pifion and
cedar. With their sufferings increased by the
exertion they had used in reaching the mountain,
they once more sought the trail, but every step
told on their exhausted frames. The sun was
very powerful; the sand over which they flound-
ered was deep and heavy; and, to complete their
sufferings, a high wind blew it in their faces, fill-
ing their mouths and noses with its searching
particles.

Still they struggled onwards manfully, and not
a murmur was heard until their hunger had en-
tered the second stage upon the road to starva-
tion. They had now been three days without
food or water, under which privation nature can
hardly sustain herself for a much longer period.

IN THE OLD WEST 145

On the fourth morning the men looked wolfish,
their captives following behind in sullen and per-
fect indifference, occasionally stooping down to
catch a beetle if one presented itself, and greedily
devouring it. A man named Forey,* a Canadian
half-breed, was the first to complain. " If this
lasted another sundown," he said, " some of them
would be rubbed out; that meat had to be raised
anyhow; and for his part, he knew where to look
for a feed, if no game was seen before they put
out of camp on the morrow; and meat was meat,
anyhow they fixed it."

No answer was made to this, though his com-
panions well understood him: their natures as yet
revolted against the last expedient. As for the
three squaws, all of them young girls, they fol-
lowed behind their captors without a word of
complaint, and with the stoical indifference to
pain and suffering which alike characterizes the
haughty Delaware of the North and the miserable
stunted Digger of the deserts of the Far West.
On the morning of the fifth day the party were
seated round a small fire of pifion, hardly able
to rise and commence their journey, the squaws
squatting over another at a little distance, when
Forey commenced again to suggest that, if noth-
ing offered, they must either take the alternative
of starving to death — for they could not hope
to last another day — or have recourse to the

* Also known as Furey. (Ed.)

146 IN THE OLD WEST

revolting extremity of sacrificing one of the party
to save the lives of all. To this, however, there
was a murmur of dissent, and it was finally re-
solved that all should sally out and hunt, for a
deer-track had been discovered near the camp,
which, although it was not a fresh one, proved
that there must be game in the vicinity. Weak
and exhausted as they were, they took their rifles
and started for the neighboring uplands, each
taking a different direction.

It was nearly sunset when La Bonte returned
to the camp, where he already espied one of his
companions engaged in cooking something over
the fire. Hurrying to the spot, overjoyed with
the anticipations of a feast, he observed that the
squaws were gone; but, at the same time, thought
it was not improbable they had escaped during
their absence. Approaching the fire, he observed
Forey broiling some meat on the embers, whilst
at a little distance lay what he fancied was the
carcass of a deer.

" Hurrah, boy ! " he exclaimed, as he drew near
the fire. " You've made a raise, I see."

*' Well, I have," rejoined the other, turning his
meat with the point of his butcher-knife.
" There's the meat, hoss — help yourself."

La Bonte drew his knife from the scabbard,
and approached the spot his companion was
pointing to ; but what was his horror to see the
yet quivering body of one of the Indian squaws,

IN THE OLD WEST 147

with a large portion of the flesh butchered from
it, part of which Forey was already greedily de-
vouring. The knife dropped from his hand, and
his heart rose to his throat.

The next day he and his companion struck the
creek where Rube and the other trapper had
agreed to await them, and found them in camp
with plenty of meat, and about to start again on
their hunt, having given up the others for lost.
From the day they parted, nothing was ever
heard of La Bonte's other two companions, who
doubtless fell a prey to utter exhaustion, and
were unable to return to the camp. And thus
ended the Digger expedition.

It may appear almost incredible that men hav-
ing civilized blood in their veins could perpetrate
such wanton and cold-blooded acts of aggression
on the wretched Indians as that detailed above ;
but it is fact that the mountaineers never lose
an opportunity of slaughtering these miserable
Diggers, and attacking their villages, often for
the purpose of capturing women, whom they
carry off, and not unfrequently sell to other
tribes, or to each other. In these attacks neither
sex nor age is spared ; and your mountaineer has
as little compunction in taking the life of an
Indian woman, as he would have in sending his
rifle-ball through the brain of a Crow or Black-
foot warrior.

La Bonte now found himself without animals,

148 IN THE OLD WEST

and fairly afoot; consequently nothing remained
for him but to seek some of the trapping bands,
and hire himself for the hunt. Luckily for him,
he soon fell in with Roubideau, on his way to
Uintah, and was supplied by him with a couple
of animals ; and thus equipped, he started again
with a large band of trappers, who were going
to hunt on the waters of Grand River and the
Gila. Here they fell in with another nation of
Indians, from which branch out the innumerable
tribes inhabiting Northern Mexico and part of
California. They were in general friendly, but
lost no opportunity of stealing horses or any
articles left lying about the camp. On one oc-
casion, the trappers being camped on a northern
affluent of the Gila, a volley of arrows was dis-
charged amongst them, severely wounding one or
two of the party as they sat round the camp-fires.
The attack, however, was not renewed, and the
next day the camp was moved further down the
stream, where beaver was tolerably abundant.
Before sundown a number of Indians made their
appearance, and, making signs of peace, were ad-
mitted into the camp.

The trappers were all sitting at their suppers
over the fires, the Indians looking gravely on,
when it was remarked that now would be a good
opportunity to retaliate upon them for the trouble
their incessant attacks had entailed upon the
camp. The suggestion was highly approved of,

IN THE OLD WEST 149

and instantly acted upon. Springing to their
feet, the trappers seized their rifles, and com-
menced the slaughter. The Indians, panic-
struck, fled without resistance, and numbers fell
before the death-dealing rifles of the mountain-
eers. A chief, who had been sitting on a rock
near the fire where the leader of the trappers sat,
had been singled out by the latter as the first
mark for his rifle.

Placing the muzzle to his heart, he pulled the
trigger, but the Indian, with extraordinary tenac-
ity of life, rose and grappled with his assailant.
The white was a tall powerful man, but notwith-
standing the deadly wound the Indian had re-
ceived, he had his equal in strength to contend
against. The naked form of the Indian twisted
and writhed in his grasp as he sought to avoid
the trapper's uplifted knife. Many of the lat-
ter's companions advanced to administer the coup-
de-grace to the savage, but the trapper cried to
them to keep off: " If he couldn't whip the Injun,"
he said " he'd go under."

At length he succeeded in throwing him, and,
plunging his knife no less than seven times into
his body, he tore off his scalp, and went in pursuit
of the flying savages. In the course of an hour
or two all the party returned, and, sitting by the
fires, resumed their suppers, which had been in-
terrupted in the manner just described. Walker,
the captain of the band, sat down by the fire where

150 IN THE OLD WEST

he had been engaged in the struggle with the In-
dian chief, whose body was lying within a few
paces of it. He was in the act of fighting the bat-
tle over again to one of his companions, and was
saying that the Indian had as much life in him
as a buffalo bull, when, to the horror of all pres-
ent, the savage, who had received wounds sufficient
for twenty deaths, suddenly rose to a sitting pos-
ture, the fire shedding a glowing light upon the
horrid spectacle. The face was a mass of clotted
blood, which flowed from the lacerated scalp, whilst
gouts of blood streamed from eight gaping wounds
in the naked breast.

Slowly this frightful figure rose to a sitting pos-
ture, and, bending slowly forward to the fire, the
mouth was seen to open wide, and a hollow gurgling
— owg-h-h — broke from it.

" H — ! " exclaimed the trapper — and jumping
up, he placed a pistol to the ghastly head, the eyes
of which sternly fixed themselves on his, and, pull-
ing the trigger, blew the poor wretch's skull to
atoms.

The Gila passes through a barren sandy coun-
try, with but little game, and sparsely inhabited
by several different tribes of the great nation of
the Apache. Unlike the rivers of this western re-
gion, this stream is, in most parts of its course,
particularly towards its upper waters, entirely
bare of timber, and the bottom, through which it
runs, affords but little of the coarsest grass.

IN THE OLD WEST 151

Whilst on this stream, the trapping party lost
several animals for want of pasture, and many
more from the predatory attacks of the cunning
Indians. These losses, however, they invariably
made good whenever they . encountered a native
village — taking care, moreover, to repay them-
selves with interest whenever occasion offered.

Notwithstanding the sterile nature of the coun-
try, the trappers, during their passage up the
Gila, saw with astonishment that the arid and bar-
ren valley had once been peopled by a race of men
far superior to the present nomad tribes who
roam over it. With no little awe they gazed upon
the ruined walls of large cities, and the remains
of houses, with their ponderous beams and joists,
still testifying to the skill and industry with which
they were constructed: huge ditches and irrigat-
ing canals, now filled with rank vegetation, fur-
rowed the plains in the vicinity, marking the spot
where once green waving maize and smiling gar-
dens covered what now is a bare and sandy desert.
Pieces of broken pottery, of domestic utensils,
stained with bright colors, everywhere strewed the
ground ; and spear and arrow heads of stone, and
quaintly-carved idols, and women's ornaments of
agate and obsidian, were picked up often by the
wondering trappers, examined with childlike curi-
osity, and thrown carelessly aside.*

* The Aztecs are supposed to have built this city during
their migration to the south: there is little doubt, however,

IN THE OLD WEST

A Taos Indian, who was amongst the band, was
evidently impressed with a melancholy awe as he
regarded these ancient monuments of his fallen
people. At midnight he rose from his blanket
and left the camp, which was in the vicinity of the
ruined city, stealthily picking his way through
the line of slumbering forms which lay around;
and the watchful sentinel observed him approach
the ruins with a slow and reverential gait. En-
tering the moldering walls, he gazed silently
around, where in ages past his ancestors trod
proudly, a civilized race, the tradition of which,
well known to his people, served but to make their
present degraded position more galling and ap-
parent. Cowering under the shadow of a crum-
bling wall, the Indian drew his blanket over his
head, and conjured to his mind's eye the former
power and grandeur of his race — that warlike
people who, forsaking their own country for
causes o-f which no tradition, however dim, now
exists, sought in the fruitful and teeming valleys
of the south a soil and climate which their own
lands did not afford, and, displacing the wild
and barbarous hordes inhabiting the land, raised
there a mighty empire, great in riches and civiliza-
tion.

The Indian bowed his head, and mourned the

but that the region extending from the Gila to the Great
Salt Lake, and embracing the province of New Mexico, was
the locality from which they emigrated.

IN THE OLD WEST 153

fallen greatness of his tribe. Rising, he slowly
drew his tattered blanket round his body, and pre-
pared to leave the spot, when the shadow of a mov-
ing figure, creeping past a gap in the ruined wall
through which the moonbeams played, suddenly
arrested his attention. Rigid as a statue, he
stood transfixed to the spot, thinking a former
inhabitant of the city was visiting, in a ghostly
form, the scenes his body once knew so well. The
bow in his right hand shook with fear as he saw
the shadow approach, but was as tightly and
steadily grasped when, on the figure emerging
from the shade of the wall, he distinguished the
form of a naked Apache, armed with bow and
arrow, crawling stealthily through the gloomy
ruins.

Standing undiscovered within the shadow of
the wall, the Taos raised his bow, and drew an ar-
row to the head, until the other, who was bend-
ing low to keep under cover of the wall, and thus
approach the sentinel standing at a short dis-
tance, seeing suddenly the well-defined shadow on
the ground, rose upright on his legs, and, know-
ing escape was impossible, threw his arms down
his sides, and, drawing himself erect, exclaimed
in a suppressed tone, " Wa-g-h ! "

"Wagh!" exclaimed the Taos likewise, but
quickly dropped his arrow point, and eased the
bow.

" What does my brother want," he asked, «* that

154 IN THE OLD WEST

he lopes like a wolf round the fires of the white
hunters?"

" Is m j brother's skin not red ? " returned the
Apache, " and yet he asks question that needs no
answer. Why does the medicine-wolf follow the
buffalo and deer ? For blood — and for blood
the Indian follows the treacherous white from
camp to camp, to strike blow for blow, until the
deaths of those so basely killed are fully avenged."

" My brother speaks Tnth a big heart, and his
words are true; and though the Taos and Pimo
(Apache) black their faces towards each other
(are at war), here, on the graves of their com-
mon fathers, there is peace between them. Let
my brother go."

The Apache moved quickly away, and the Taos
oirce more sought the camp-fires of his white com-
panions.

Following the course of the Gila to the east-
ward, they crossed a range of the Sierra Madre,
which is a continuation of the Rocky Mountains,
and struck the waters of the Rio del Norte below
the settlements of New Mexico. On this stream
they fared well ; besides trapping a great quantity
of beaver, game of all kinds abounded, and the
bluffs near the well-timbered banks of the river
were covered with rich gramma grass, on which
their half-starved animals speedily improved in
condition.

They remained for some weeks encamped on the

IN THE OLD WEST 155

right bank of the stream, during which period
they lost one of their number, shot with an ar-
row whilst lying asleep within a few feet of the
camp-fire.

The Navajos continually prowl along that por-
tion of the river which runs through the settle-
ments of New Mexico, preying upon the cowardly
inhabitants, and running off with their cattle
whenever they are exposed in sufficient numbers to
tempt them. Whilst ascending the river, the trap-
pers met a party of these Indians returning to
their mountain homes with a large band of mules
and horses, which they had taken from one of the
Mexican towns, besides several women and chil-
dren, whom they had captured as slaves. The
main body of the trappers halting, ten of the
band followed and charged upon the Indians who
numbered at least sixty, killed seven of them, and
retook the prisoners and the whole cavallada of
horses and mules. Great were the rejoicings
when they entered Socorro, the town whence the
women and children had been taken, and as loud
the remonstrances when, handing them over to
their families, the trappers rode on, driving fifty
of the best of the rescued animals before them,
which they retained as payment for their services.
Messengers were sent on to Albuquerque with in-
telligence of the proceeding; and as troops were
stationed there, the commandant was applied to,
to chastise the insolent whites.

156 IN THE OLD WEST

That warrior, on learning that the trappers
numbered less than fifteen, became alarmingly
brave, and ordering out the whole of his dispos-
able force, some two hundred dragoons, sallied
out to intercept the audacious mountaineers.
About noon one day, just as the latter had
emerged from a little town between Socorro and
Albuquerque, they descried the imposing force of
the dragoons winding along a plain ahead. As
the trappers advanced, the officer in command
halted his men, and sent out a trumpeter to order
the former to await his coming. Treating the
herald to a roar of laughter, on they went, and, as
they approached the soldiers, broke into a trot,
ten of the number forming line in front of the
packed and loose animals, and, rifle in hand, charg-
ing with loud whoops. This was enough for the
New Mexicans. Before the enemy were within
shooting distance the gallant fellows turned tail,
and splashed into the river, dragging themselves
up the opposite bank like half-drowned rats, and
saluted with loud peals of laughter by the victo-
rious mountaineers, who, firing a volley into the
air in token of supreme contempt, quietly con-
tinued their route up the stream.

Before reaching the capital of the province
they struck again to the westward, and, following
a small creek to its junction with the Green River,
ascended that stream, trapping en route to the
Uintah or Snake Fork, and arrived at Roubideau's

IN THE OLD WEST 157

rendezvous early in the fall, where they quickly
disposed of their peltries, and were once more on
" the loose."

Here La Bonte married a Snake squaw, with
whom he crossed the mountains and proceeded to
the Platte through the Bayou Salade, where he pur-
chased of the Yutas, a commodious lodge, with the
necessary poles, &c. ; and being now rich in mules
and horses, and in all things necessary for otium
cum dignitate, he took unto himself another wife,
as by mountain law allowed ; and thus equipped,
with both his better halves attired in all the glory
of " fofarraw," he went his way rejoicing.

In a snug little valley lying under the shadow
of the mountains, watered by Vermilion Creek, and
in which abundance of buffalo, elk, deer, and ante-
lope fed and fattened on the rich grass, La Bonte
raised his lodge, employing himself in hunting,
and fully occupying his wives' time in dressing
the skins of the many animals he killed. Here he
enjoyed himself amazingly until the commence-
ment of winter, when he determined to cross to the
North Fork and trade his skins, of which he had
now as many packs as his animals could carry.
It happened that he one day left his camp, to
spend a couple of days hunting buffalo in the
mountains, whither the bulls were now resorting,
intending to " put out " for Platte on his return.
His hunt, however, led him farther into the moun-
tains than he anticipated, and it was only on the

158 IN THE OLD WEST

third day that sundown saw him enter the little
valley where his camp was situated.

Crossing the creek, he was not a little disturbed
at seeing fresh Indian sign on the opposite side,
which led in the direction of his lodge; and his
worst fears were realized when, on coming within
sight of the little plateau where the conical top
of his white lodge had always before met his view,
he saw nothing but a blackened mass strewing the
ground, and the burnt ends of the poles which had
once supported it.

Squaws, animals, and peltry, all were gone —
an Arapaho moccasin lying on the ground told
him where. He neither fumed nor fretted, but,
throwing the meat off his pack animal, and the
saddle from his horse, he collected the black-
ened ends of the lodge poles and made a fire —
led his beasts to water and hobbled them, threw
a piece of buffalo-meat upon the coals, squatted
down before the fire, and lit his pipe. La Bonte
was a true philosopher. Notwithstanding that
his house, his squaws, his peltries, were gone at
one fell swoop, the loss scarcely disturbed his
equanimity ; and before the tobacco in his pipe was
half smoked out, he had ceased to think of his
misfortune. Certes, as he turned his apolla of
tenderloin, he sighed as he thought of the deli-
cate manipulations with which his Shoshone squaw,
Sah-qua-manish, was wont to beat to tenderness
the toughest bull meat — and missed the tending

IN THE OLD WEST 159

care of Yute Chil-co-the, or the "Reed that
Bends," in patching the holes worn in his neatly-
fitting moccasins, the work of her nimble fingers.
However, he ate and smoked, and smoked and ate,
and slept none the worse for his mishap ; thought,
before he closed his eyes, a little of his lost wives,
and more perhaps of the " Bending Reed " than
of Sah-qua-manish, or " She Who Runs with the
Stream " — drew his blanket tightly round him,
felt his rifle handy to his grasp, and was speedily
asleep.

Whilst the tired mountaineer breathes heavily
in his dream, careless and unconscious that a liv-
ing soul is near, his mule on a sudden pricks her
ears and stares into the gloom, whence a figure
soon emerges, and with noiseless steps draws near
the sleeping hunter. Taking one look at the
slumbering form, the same figure approaches the
fire and adds a log to the pile; which done, it
quietly seats itself at the feet of the sleeper, and
remains motionless as a statue.

Towards morning the hunter awoke, and, rub-
bing his eyes, was astonished to feel the glowing
warmth of the fire striking on his naked feet,
which, in Indian fashion, were stretched towards
it ; as by this time, he knew, the fire he left burning
must long since have expired. Lazily raising him-
self on his elbow, he saw a figure sitting near it
with the back turned to him, which, although his
exclamatory wagh was loud enough in all con-

160 IN THE OLD WEST

science, remained perfectly motionless, until the
trapper, rising, placed his hand upon the shoul-
der: then, turning up its face, the features dis-
played to his wondering eye were those of Chil-co-
the, his Yuta wife. Yes, indeed, the " Bending
Reed " had escaped from her Arapaho captors,
and made her way back to her white husband, fast-
ing and alone.

The Indian women who follow the fortunes of
the white hunters are remarkable for their affec-
tion and fidelity to their husbands, the which vir-
tues, it must be remarked, are all on their own
side ; for, with very few exceptions, the mountain-
eers seldom scruple to abandon their Indian wives
whenever the fancy takes them to change their
harems ; and on such occasions the squaws, thus
cast aside, wild with jealousy and despair, have
been not unfrequently known to take signal venge-
ance both on their faithless husbands and on
the successful beauties who have supplanted them
in their affections. There are some honorable ex-
ceptions, however, to such cruelty, and many of
the mountaineers stick to their red-skinned wives
for better and for worse, often suffering them to
gain the upper hand in the domestic economy of
the lodges, and being ruled by their better halves
in all things pertaining to famfly affairs; and
it may be remarked that, when once the lady dons
the unmentionables, she becomes the veriest ter-
magant that ever henpecked an unfortunate hus-

IN THE OJJ) WEST 161

band. Your refined trappers, however, who, after
many years of bachelor life, incline to take to
theinselves a better half, often undertake an ex-
pedition into the settlements of New Mexico, where
not unfrequently they adopt a Young Lochinvar
system in procuring the required rib, and have
been known to carry off vi et armis, from the midst
of a fandango in Fernandez or El Rancho of Taos,
some dark-skinned beauty — with or without her
own consent is a matter of unconcern — and bear
the ravished fair one across the mountains, where
she soon becomes inured to the free and roving
life fate has assigned her.

American women are valued at a low figure in
the mountains. They are too fine and " fofar-
raw." Neither can they make moccasins, or dress
skins ; nor are they so schooled to perfect obedience
to their lords and masters as to stand a " lodge-
poling," which the western lords of the creation
not unfrequently deem it their bounden duty to
inflict upon their squaws for some dereliction of
domestic duty.

To return, however, to La Bonte. That worthy
thought himself a lucky man to have lost but one
of his wives, and she the worst of the two.
" Here's the beauty," he philosophized, " of hav-
ing two wiping-sticks to your rifle; if one breaks
whilst ramming down a ball, there's still hickory
left to supply its place." Although, with ani-
mals and peltry, he had lost several hundred dol-

162 IN THE OLD WEST

lars' worth of " possibles," he never groaned or
grumbled. " There's redskin will pay for this,"
he once muttered, and was done.

Packing all that was left on the mule, and
mounting Chil-co-the on his buffalo horse, he shoul-
dered his rifle and struck the Indian trail for
Platte. On Horse Creek they came upon a party
of French * trappers and hunters, who were en-
camped with their lodges and Indian squaws, and
formed quite a village. Several old companions
were amongst them; and, to celebrate the arrival
of a " camarade," a splendid dog-feast was pre-
pared in honor of the event. To effect this, the
squaws sallied out of their lodges to seize upon
sundry of the younger and plumper of the pack,
to fill the kettles for the approaching feast. With
a presentiment of the fate in store for them, the
curs slunk away with tails between their legs, and
declined the pressing invitations of the anxious
squaws. These shouldered their tomahawks and
gave chase; but the cunning pups outstripped
them, and would have fairly beaten the kettles, if
some of the mountaineers had not stepped out with
their rifles, and quickly laid half-a-dozen ready to
the knife. A cayeute, attracted by the scent of
blood, drew near, unwitting of the canine feast in
progress, and was likewise soon made dog of, and
thrust into the boiling kettle with the rest.

* Creoles of St. Louis, and French Canadians.

IN THE OLD WEST 163

The feast that night was long protracted; and
so savory was the stew, and so agreeable to the
palates of the hungry hunters, that at the moment
the last morsel was drawn from the pot, when all
were regretting that a few more dogs had not been
slaughtered, a wolfish-looking cur, who incautiously
poked his long nose and head under the lodge skin,
was pounced upon by the nearest hunter, who in
a moment drew his knife across the animal's throat,
and threw it to a squaw to skin and prepare for
the pot. The wolf had long since been vigorously
discussed, and voted by all hands to be " good as
dog."

" Meat's meat," is a common saying in the moun-
tains, and from the buffalo down to the rattle-
snake, including every quadruped that runs, every
fowl that flies, and every reptile that creeps, noth-
ing comes amiss to the mountaineer. Throwing
aside all the qualms and conscientious scruples of
a fastidious stomach, it must be confessed that
dog-meat takes a high rank in the wonderful vari-
ety of cuisine afforded to the gourmand and the
gourmet by the prolific mountains. Now, when
the bill of fare offers such tempting viands as buf-
falo-beef, venison, mountain mutton, turkey,
grouse, wild-fowl, hares, rabbits, beaver and their
tails, &c., &c., the station assigned to dog as No.
£ in the list can be well appreciated — No. 1, in
delicacy of flavor, richness of meat, and other

164 IN THE OLD WEST

good qualities, being the flesh of panthers, which
surpasses every other, and all put together.*

" Painter meat can't ' shine ' with this," says
a hunter, to express the delicious flavor of an
extraordinary cut of tenderloin or delicate
fleece.

La Bonte started with his squaw for the North
Fork early in November, and arrived at the Lara-
mie at the moment that the big village of the Sioux
came up for their winter trade. Two other vil-
lages were encamped lower down the Platte, in-
cluding the Brules and the Yanka-taus, who were
now on more friendly terms with the whites. The
first band numbered several hundred lodges, and
presented quite an imposing appearance, the vil-
lage being laid out in parallel lines, the lodge of
each chief being marked with his particular totem.
The traders had a particular portion of the vil-
lage allotted to them, and a line was marked out,
which was strictly kept by the soldiers appointed
for the protection of the whites. As there were
many rival traders, and numerous coureurs des
bois, or peddling ones, the market promised to be
brisk, the more so as a large quantity of ardent
spirits was in their possession, which would be
dealt with no unsparing hand to put down the
opposition of so many competing traders.

In opening a trade, a quantity of liquor is first

* The excellence of panther meat is praised by Hart
Merriam in his "Mammals of the Adirondacks." (Ed.)

IN THE OLD WEST 165

given " on the prairie," * as the Indians express
it in words, or by signs in rubbing the palm of one
hand quickly across the other, holding both flat.
Having once tasted the pernicious liquid, there is
no fear but they will quickly come to terms; and
not unfrequently the spirit is drugged, to render
the unfortunate Indians still more helpless. Some-
times, maddened and infuriated by drink, they com-
mit the most horrid atrocities on each other, mur-
dering and mutilating in a barbarous manner, and
often attempting the lives of the traders them-
selves. On one occasion a band of Sioux, whilst
under the influence of liquor, attacked and took
possession of a trading fort of the American Fur
Company, stripping it of everything it contained,
and roasting the trader himself over his own fire.

The principle on which the nefarious trade is
conducted is this, — that the Indians, possessing
a certain quantity of buffalo-robes, have to be
cheated out of them, and the sooner the better.
Although it is explicitly prohibited by the laws
of the United States to convey spirits across the
Indian frontier, and its introduction amongst the
Indian tribes subjects the offender to a heavy
penalty, yet the infraction of this law is of daily
occurrence, perpetrated almost in the very pres-
ence of the Government officers, who are stationed
along the frontier for the purpose of enforcing the
laws for the protection of the Indians.

*"0n the prairie" is the Indian term for a free gift.

166 IN THE OLD WEST

The misery entailed upon these unhappy people
by the illicit traffic must be seen to be fully appre-
ciated. Before the effects of the poisonous " fire-
water," they disappear from the earth like snow
before the sun. Although aware of the destruction
it entails upon them, the poor wretches have not
moral courage to shun the fatal allurement it
holds out to them of wild excitement and a tem-
porary oblivion of their many sufferings and priva-
tions. With such palpable effects, it appears
only likely that the illegal trade is connived at by
those whose policy it has ever been, gradually, but
surely, to exterminate the Indians, and by any
means to extinguish their title to the few lands
they now own on the outskirts of civilization.
Certain it is that large quantities of liquor find
their way annually into the Indian country, and
as certain are the fatal results of the pernicious
system, and that the American Government takes
no steps to prevent it.* There are some tribes
who have as yet withstood the great temptation,
and have resolutely refused to permit liquor to
be brought into their villages. The marked dif-
ference between the improved condition of these,
and the moral and physical abasement of those
which give way to the fatal passion for drinking,

* This is an exaggeration. The laws against sale of
liquor to the Indians were strict, and the chief difficulty of
the fur companies was to evade Government agents who
searched their outbound cargoes and often made seizures.
Still, there doubtless was much collusion. (Ed.)

IN THE OLD WEST 167

sufficiently proves the pernicious effects of the
liquor-trade on the unfortunate and abused abo-
rigines ; and it is matter of regret that no philan-
thropist has sprung up in the United States to
do battle for the rights of the Red Men, and call
attention to the wrongs they endure at the hands
of their supplanters in the lands of their fathers.

Robbed of their homes and hunting-grounds,
and driven by the encroachments of the whites to
distant regions, which hardly support existence,
the Indians, day by day, gradually decrease be-
fore the accumulating evils of body and soul,
which their civilized persecutors entail upon
them. With every man's hand against them, they
drag on to their final destiny ; and the day is not
far distant when the American Indian will exist
only in the traditions of his pale-faced conquerors.

The Indians trading at this time on the Platte
were mostly of the Sioux nation, including the
tribes of Burnt-woods, Yanka-taus, Pian-Kashas,
Assinaboins, Oglallahs, Broken Arrows, all of
which belong to the great Sioux nation, or La-
cotahs, as they call themselves, and which means
Cut-throats. There were also some Cheyennes
allied to the Sioux, as well as a small band of
Republican Pawnees.

Horse-racing, gambling, and ball-play served
to pass away the time until the trade commenced,
and many packs of dressed robes changed hands
amongst themselves. When playing at the usual

168 IN THE OLD WEST

game of " hand," the stakes, comprising all the
valuables the players possess, are piled in two
heaps close at hand, the winner at the conclusion
of the game sweeping the goods towards him, and
often returning a small portion " on the prairie,"
with which the loser may again commence opera-
tions with another player.

The game of " hand " is played by two per-
sons. One, who commences, places a plum or
cherry stone in the hollow formed by joining the
concaved palms of the hands together ; then, shak-
ing the stone for a few moments, the hands are
suddenly separated, and the other player must
guess which hand now contains the stone.

Large bets are often wagered on the result of
this favorite game, which is also often played by
the squaws, the men standing round encouraging
them to bet, and laughing loudly at their gro-
tesque excitement.

A Burnt-wood Sioux, Tah-tunganisha, one of
the bravest chiefs of his tribe, was out, when a
young man, on a solitary war expedition against
the Crows. One evening he drew near a certain
" medicine " spring, where, to his astonishment, he
encountered a Crow warrior in the act of quench-
ing his thirst. He was on the point of drawing
his bow upon him, when he remembered the sacred
nature of the spot, and making the sign of peace,
he fearlessly drew near his foe, and proceeded
likewise to slake his thirst. A pipe of kinnik-

IN THE OLD WEST 169

kinnik being produced, it was proposed to pass
away the early part of the night in a game of
" hand." They accordingly sat down beside the
spring and commenced the game.

Fortune favored the Crow. He won arrow
after arrow from the Burnt-wood brave; then his
bow, his club, his knife, his robe, all followed, and
the Sioux sat naked on the plain. Still he pro-
posed another stake against the other's winnings
— his scalp. He played and lost; and bending
forward his head, the Crow warrior drew his knife
and quickly removed the bleeding prize. With-
out a murmur the luckless Sioux rose to depart,
but first exacted a promise from his antagonist
that he would meet him once more at the same
spot, and engage in another trial of skill.

On the day appointed, the Burnt-wood sought
the spot, with a new equipment, and again the
Crow made his appearance, and they sat down to
play. This time fortune changed sides; the
Sioux won back his former losses, and in his turn
the Crow was stripped to his skin.

Scalp against scalp was now the stake, and this
time the Crow submitted his head to the victo-
rious Burnt-wood's knife ; and both the warriors
stood scalpless on the plain.

And now the Crow had but one single stake of
value to offer, and the offer of it he did not hesi-
tate to make. He staked his life against the
other's winnings. They played; and fortune still

170 IN THE OLD WEST

being adverse, he lost. He offered his breast to
his adversary. The Burnt-wood plunged his knife
into his heart to the very hilt; and, laden with
his spoils, returned to his village, and to this
day wears suspended from his ears his own and
his enemy's scalp.

The village presented the usual scene of con-
fusion as long as the trade lasted. Fighting,
brawling, yelling, dancing, and all the concomi-
tants of intoxication, continued to the last drop
of the liquor-keg, when the reaction after such ex-
citement was almost worse than the evil itself*
During this time all the work devolved upon the
squaws, who, in tending the horses, and in pack-
ing wood and water from a long distance, had
their time sufficiently occupied. As there was
little or no grass in the vicinity, the animals were
supported entirely on the bark of the cottonwood ;
and to procure this, the women were daily en-
gaged in felling huge trees, or climbing them fear-
lessly, chopping off the upper limbs — springing
like squirrels from branch to branch, which, in
their confined costume, appeared matter of con-
siderable difficulty.

The most laughter-provoking scenes, however,
were, when a number of squaws sallied out to the
grove with their long-nosed wolfish-looking dogs
harnessed to their travees * or trabogans, on
which loads of cottonwood were piled. The dogs,

* Travois. (Ed.)

IN THE OLD WEST 171

knowing full well the duty required of them,
refuse to approach the coaxing squaws, and, at
the same time, are fearful of provoking their an-
ger by escaping and running off. They, there-
fore, squat on their haunches, with tongues hang-
ing out of their long mouths, the picture of in-
decision, removing a short distance as the irate
squaw approaches. When once harnessed to the
travee, however, which is simply a couple of lodge-
poles lashed on either side of the dog, with a
couple of cross-bars near the ends ta support
the freight, they follow quietly enough, urged by
bevies of children who invariably accompany the
women. Once arrived at the scene of their labors,
the reluctance of the curs to draw near the piles
of cottonwood is most comical. They will lie
down stubbornly at a little distance, whining their
uneasiness, or sometimes scamper off bodily, with
their long poles trailing after them, pursued by
the yelling and half-frantic squaws.

When the travees are laden, the squaws, bent
double under loads of wood sufficient to break a
porter's back, and calling to the dogs, which are
urged on by the buffalo-fed urchins in rear, lead
the line of march. The curs, taking advantage
of the helpless state of their mistresses, turn a
deaf ear to their coaxings, lying down every few
yards to rest, growling and fighting with each
other, in which encounters every cur joins the
melee, charging pell-mell into the yelping throng,

172 IN THE OLD WEST

upsetting the squalling children, and making con-
fusion worse confounded. Then, armed with
lodge-poles, the squaws, throwing down their
loads, rush to the rescue, dealing stalwart blows
on the pugnacious curs, and finally restoring some-
thing like order to the march.

" Tszoo — tszoo ! " they cry, " wah, kashne,
ceitcha — get on, you devilish beasts — tszoo —
tszoo ! " and belaboring them without mercy, they
start them into a gallop, which, once commenced,
is generally continued till they reach their desti-
nation.

The Indian dogs are, however, invariably well
treated by the squaws, since they assist materially
the everyday labors of these patient overworked
creatures, in hauling firewood to the lodge, and,
on the line of march, carrying many of the house-
hold goods and chattels, which otherwise the
squaw herself would have to carry on her back.
Every lodge possesses from half-a-dozen to a
score, — some for draught and others for eating
— for dog-meat forms part and parcel of an
Indian feast. The former are stout wiry animals,
half wolf half sheep-dog, and are regularly trained
to draught; the latter are of a smaller kind, more
inclined to fat, and embrace every variety of the
genus cur. Many of the southern tribes possess
a breed of dogs entirely divested of hair, which
evidently have come from South America, and are
highly esteemed for the kettle. Their meat, in

IN THE OLD WEST 173

appearance and flavor, resembles young pork, but
far surpasses it in richness and delicacy.

The Sioux are very expert in making their
lodges comfortable, taking more pains in their
construction than most Indians. They are all of
conical form: a framework of straight slender
poles, resembling hop-poles, and from twenty to
twenty-five feet long, is first erected, round which
is stretched a sheeting of buffalo-robes, softly
dressed, and smoked to render them water-tight.
The apex, through which the ends of the poles
protrude, is left open to allow the smoke to es-
cape. A small opening, sufficient to permit the
entrance of a man, is made on one side, over
which is hung a door of buffalo-hide. A lodge
of the common size contains about twelve or four-
teen skins, and contains comfortably a family of
twelve in number. The fire is made in the center,
immediately under the aperture in the roof, and
a flap of the upper skins is closed or extended at
pleasure, serving as a cowl or chimney-top to
regulate the draught and permit the smoke to
escape freely. Round the fire, with their feet
towards it, the inmates sleep on skins and buf-
falo-rugs, which are rolled up during the day,
and stowed at the back of the lodge.

In traveling, the lodge-poles are secured half
on each side a horse, and the skins placed on
transversal bars near the ends, which trail along
the ground — two or three squaws or children

174* IN THE OLD WEST

mounted on the same horse, or the smallest of the
latter borne in the dog travees. A set of lodge-
poles will last from three to seven years, unless
the village is constantly on the move, when they
are soon worn out in trailing over the gravelly
prairie. They are usually of ash, which grows
on many of the mountain creeks, and regular ex-
peditions are undertaken when a supply is re-
quired, either for their own lodges, or for trading
with those tribes who inhabit the prairies at a
great distance from the locality where the poles
are procured.

There are also certain creeks where the Indians
resort to lay in a store of kinnik-kinnik (the inner
bark of the red willow),* which they use as a
substitute for tobacco, and which has an aro-
matic and very pungent flavor. It is prepared for
smoking by being scraped in thin curly flakes from
the slender saplings, and crisped before the fire,
after which it is rubbed between the hands, into
a form resembling leaf-tobacco, and stored in
skin bags for use. It has a highly narcotic ef-
fect on those not habituated to its use, and pro-
duces a heaviness sometimes approaching stupe-
faction, altogether different from the soothing
effects of tobacco.

Every year, owing to the disappearance of the
buffalo from their former haunts, the Indians are
compelled to encroach upon each other's hunting-

* Red osier dogwood. (Ed.)

IN THE OLD WEST 175

grounds, which is a fruitful cause of war between
the different tribes. It is a curious fact that the
buffalo retire before the whites, whilst the pres-
ence of Indians in their pastures appears in no
degree to disturb them. Wherever a few white
hunters are congregated in a trading post, or
elsewhere, so sure is it that, if they remain in the
same locality, the buffalo will desert the vicinity,
and seek pasture elsewhere. In this, the Indians
affirm, the wahkeitcha, or " bad medicine," of the
pale-faces is very apparent ; and they ground upon
it their well-founded complaints of the encroach-
ments made upon their hunting-grounds by the
white hunters.

In the winter, many of the tribes are reduced
to the very verge of starvation — the buffalo hav-
ing passed from their country into that of their
enemies ; when no other alternative is offered them
but to remain where they are and starve, or to
follow the game into a hostile region — a move
entailing war and all its horrors.

Reckless, moreover, of the future, in order to
prepare robes for the traders, and to procure
the pernicious fire-water, they wantonly slaughter,
every year, vast numbers of buffalo cows (the
skins of which sex only are dressed), and thus add
to the evils in store for them. When questioned
on this subject, and reproached with such want
of foresight, they answer, that however quickly
the buffalo disappears, the Red Man " goes un-

176 IN THE OLD WEST

der " more quickly still ; and that the Great Spirit
has ordained that both shall be " rubbed out "
from the face of nature at one and the same time,
— " that arrows and bullets are not more fatal
to the buffalo than the small-pox and fire-water
to them, and that before many winters' snows have
disappeared, the buffalo and the Red Man will
only be remembered by their bones, which will
strew the plains." " They look forward, how-
ever, to a future state, when, after a long jour-
ney, they will reach the happy hunting-grounds,
where buffalo will once more blacken the prairies ;
where the pale-faces dare not come to disturb
them; where no winter snows cover the ground,
and the buffalo are always plentiful and fat."

As soon as the streams opened, La Bonte, now
reduced to two animals and four traps, sallied
forth again, this time seeking the dangerous coun-
try of the Blackfeet, on the head-waters of the
Yellow Stone and Upper Missouri. He was ac-
companied by three others, a man named Wheeler,
and one Cross-Eagle, a Swede, who had been many
years in the western country. Reaching the
forks of a small creek, on both of which appeared
plenty of beaver sign, La Bonte followed the left-
hand one alone, whilst the others trapped the
right in company, the former leaving his squaw
in the company of a Sioux woman, who followed
the fortunes of Cross-Eagle, the party agreeing
to rendezvous at the junction of the two forks,

IN THE OLD WEST 177

as soon as they had trapped to their heads and
again descended them. The larger party were
the first to reach the rendezvous, and camped on
the banks of the main stream to await the arrival
of La Bonte.

The morning after their return, they had just
risen from their blankets, and were lazily stretch-
ing themselves before the fire, when a volley of
firearms rattled from the bank of the creek, and
two of their number fell dead to the ground, whilst
at the same moment the deafening yells of Indians
broke upon the ears of the frightened squaws.
Cross-Eagle seized his rifle, and, though severely
wounded, rushed to the cover of a hollow tree
which stood near, and crawling into it, defended
himself the whole day with the greatest obstinacy,
killing five Indians outright, and wounding sev-
eral more. Unable to drive the gallant trapper
from his retreat, the savages took advantage of
a favorable wind which suddenly sprang up, and
fired the long dry grass surrounding the tree.
The rotten log catching fire, at length compelled
the hunter to leave his retreat. Clubbing his
rifle, he charged amongst the Indians, and fell at
last, pierced through and through with wounds,
but not until two more of his assailants had fallen
by his hand.

The two squaws were carried off, and one was
sold shortly afterwards to some white men at the
trading ports on the Platte ; but La Bonte never

178 IN THE OLD WEST

recovered the " Bending Reed," nor even heard of
her existence from that day. So once more was
the mountaineer bereft of his better half; and
when he returned to the rendezvous, a troop of
wolves were feasting on the bodies of his late com-
panions, and of the Indians killed in the affray,
of which he only heard the particulars a long time
after from" a trapper, who had been present when
one of the squaws was offered at the trading-post
for sale, and had heard her recount the miserable
fate of her husband and his companions on the
forks of the creek, which, from the fact of La
Bonte being the leader of the party, has since
borne his name.

Undaunted by this misfortune, the trapper con-
tinued his solitary hunt, passing through the midst
of the Crow and Blackfeet country; encountering
many perils, often hunted by the Indians, but al-
ways escaping. He had soon loaded both his ani-
mals with beaver, and then thought of bending
his steps to some of the trading rendezvous on the
other side of the mountains, where employes of
the Great Northwest Fur Company meet the
trappers with the produce of their hunts, on
Lewis's fork of the Columbia, or one of its numer-
ous affluents. His intention was to pass the win-
ter at some of the company's trading-posts in
Oregon, into which country he had never yet
penetrated.

CHAPTER V

WE have said that La Bonte was a philos-
opher: he took the streaks of ill luck
which checkered his mountain life with
perfect carelessness, if not with stoical indiffer-
ence. Nothing ruffled his danger-steeled equanim-
ity of temper; no sudden emotion disturbed his
mind. We have seen how wives were torn from
him without eliciting a groan or grumble, (but
such contretemps, it may be said, can scarcely
find a place in the category of ills) ; how the loss
of mules and mustangs, harried by horse-stealing
Indians, left him in the ne plus ultra of mountain
misery — afoot ; how packs and peltries, the hard-
earned beaver of his perilous hunts, were
" raised " at one fell swoop by freebooting bands
of savages. Hunger and thirst, we know, were
commonplace sensations to the mountaineer.
His storm-hardened flesh scarce felt the pinging
wounds of arrow-point or bullet ; and when in the
midst of Indian fight, it is not probable that any
tender qualms of feeling would allay the itching
of his fingers for his enemy's scalp-lock, nor would
any remains of civilized fastidiousness prevent
his burying his knife again and again in the life-
blood of an Indian savage.

179

180 IN THE OLD WEST

Still, in one dark corner of his heart, there
shone at intervals a faint spark of what was once
a fiercely-burning fire. Neither time, that cor-
roder of all things, nor change, that ready abettor
of oblivion, nor scenes of peril and excitement,
which act as dampers to more quiet memories,
could smother this little smoldering spark, which
now and again — when rarely-coming calm suc-
ceeded some stirring passage in the hunter's life,
and left him, for a brief time, devoid of care, and
victim to his thoughts — would flicker suddenly,
and light up all the nooks and corners of his
rugged breast, and discover to his mind's eye that
one deep-rooted memory clung there still, though
long neglected; proving that, spite of time and
change, of life and fortune,

"On revient tou jours & ses premiers amours."

Often and often, as La Bonte sat cross-legged
before his solitary camp-fire, and, pipe in mouth,
watched the blue smoke curling upwards in the
clear cold sky, a well-remembered form appeared
to gaze upon him from the vapory wreaths.
Then would old recollections crowd before him,
and old emotions, long a stranger to his breast,
shape themselves, as it were, into long-forgotten
but now familiar pulsations. Again he felt the
soft subduing influence which once, in days gone
by, a certain passion exercised over his mind and
body; and often a trembling seized him, the same

IN THE OLD WEST 181

he used to experience at the sudden sight of one
Mary Brand, whose dim and dreamy apparition
so often watched his lonely bed, or, unconsciously
conjured up, cheered him in the dreary watches
of the long and stormy winter nights.

At first he only knew that one face haunted his
dreams by night, and the few moments by day
when he thought of anything, and this face smiled
lovingly upon him and cheered him mightily.
Name he had quite forgotten, or recalled it
vaguely, and, setting small store by it, had
thought of it no more.

For many years after he had deserted his home,
La Bonte had cherished the idea of again re-
turning to his country. During this period he
had never forgotten his old flame, and many a
choice fur he had carefully laid by, intended as
a present for Mary Brand ; and many a gage
d'amour of cunning shape and device, worked in
stained quills of porcupine and bright-colored
beads — the handiwork of nimble-fingered squaws
— he had packed in his " possible " sack for the
same destination, hoping a time would come when
he might lay them at her feet.

Year after year wore on, however, and still
found him, with traps and rifle, following his peril-
ous avocation ; and each succeeding one saw him
more and more wedded to the wild mountain-life.
He was conscious how unfitted he had become
again to enter the galling harness of convention-

182 IN THE OLD WEST

ality and civilization. He thought, too, how
changed in manners and appearance he now must
be, and could not believe that he would again
find favor in the eyes of his quondam love, who,
he judged, had long since forgotten him; and
inexperienced as he was in such matters, yet he
knew enough of womankind to feel assured that
time and absence had long since done the work, if
even the natural fickleness of woman's nature had
lain dormant. Thus it was that he came to for-
get Mary Brand, but still remembered the all-
absorbing feeling she had once created in his
breast, the shadow of which still remained, and
often took form and feature in the smoke-wreaths
of his solitary camp-fire.

If truth be told, La Bonte had his failings as
a mountaineer, and — sin unpardonable in hunter
law — still possessed, in holes and corners of his
breast seldom explored by his inward eye, much
of the leaven of kindly human nature, which now
and again involuntarily peeped out, as greatly to
the contempt of his comrade trappers as it was
blushingly repressed by the mountaineer himself.
Thus, in his various matrimonial episodes, he
treated his dusky sposas with all the considera-
tion the sex could possibly demand from hand of
man. No squaw of his ever humped shoulder to
receive a castigatory and martial " lodge-poling "
for offense domestic; but often has his helpmate
blushed to see her pale-face lord and master de-

IN THE OLD WEST 183

vote himself to the feminine labor of packing huge
piles of firewood on his back, felling trees, butch-
ering unwieldy buffalo — all which are included
in the Indian category of female duties. Thus
he was esteemed an excellent part i by all the mar-
riageable young squaws of Blackfoot, Crow, and
Shoshone, of Yutah, Shian, and Arapaho; but
after his last connubial catastrophe, he steeled his
heart against all the charms and coquetry of In-
dian belles, and persevered in unblessed widow-
hood for many a long day.

From the point where we left him on his way
to the waters of the Columbia, we must jump with
him over a space of nearly two years, during which
time he had a most uninterrupted run of good
luck; trapping with great success on the head-
streams of the Columbia and Yellow Stone — the
most dangerous of trapping-ground — and find-
ing good market for his peltries at the North-
West posts — beaver fetching as high a price as
five and six dollars a " plew " — the " golden age "
of trappers, now, alas ! never to return, and exist-
ing only in the fond memory of the mountaineers.
This glorious time, however, was too good to last.
In mountain language, " such heap of fat meat
was not going to shine much longer."

La Bonte was at this time one of a band of
eight trappers, whose hunting-ground was about
the head-waters of the Yellow Stone, which we
have before said is in the country of the Black-

184 IN THE OLD WEST

feet. With him were Killbuck, Meek, Marcelline,
and three others ; and the leader of the party was
Bill Williams, that old "hard case" who had
spent forty years and more in the mountains, un-
til he had become as tough as the parfleche soles
of his moccasins. They were all good men and
true, expert hunters, and well-trained mountain-
eers. After having trapped all the streams they
were acquainted with, it was determined to strike
into the mountains, at a point where old Williams
affirmed, from the run of the hills, there must be
plenty of water, although not one of the party
had before explored the country, or knew any-
thing of its nature, or of the likelihood of its af-
fording game for themselves or pasture for their
animals. However, they packed their peltry, and
put out for the land in view — a lofty peak, dimly
seen above the more regular summit of the chain,
being their landmark.

For the first day or two their route lay between
two ridges of mountains, and by following the
little valley which skirted a creek, they kept on
level ground, and saved their animals considerable
labor and fatigue. Williams always rode ahead,
his body bent over his saddle-horn, across which
rested a long heavy rifle, his keen gray eyes peer-
ing from under the slouched brim of a flexible
felt-hat, black and shining with grease. His
buckskin hunting-shirt, bedaubed until it had the
appearance of polished leather, hung in folds over

IN THE OLD WEST 185

his bony carcass; his nether extremities being
clothed in pantaloons of the same material (with
scattered fringes down the outside of the leg —
which ornaments, however, had been pretty well
thinned to supply whangs for mending moccasins
or pack-saddles), which, shrunk with wet, clung
tightly to his long, spare, sinewy legs. His feet
were thrust into a pair of Mexican stirrups made
of wood, and as big as coal-scuttles ; and iron
spurs of incredible proportions, with tinkling
drops attached to the rowels, were fastened to his
heel — a bead-worked strap, four inches broad,
securing them over the instep. In the shoulder-
belt, which sustained his powder-horn and bullet-
pouch, were fastened the various instruments of
one pursuing his mode of life. An awl, with deer-
horn handle, and the point defended by a case
of cherry-wood carved by his own hand, hung at
the back of the belt, side by side with a worm
for cleaning the rifle; and under this was a squat
and quaint-looking bullet-mold, the handles
guarded by strips of buckskin to save his fingers
from burning when running balls, having for its
companion a little bottle made from the point of
an antelope's horn, scraped transparent, which
contained the " medicine " used in baiting the
traps. The old coon's face was sharp and thin,
a long nose and chin hob-nobbing each other ; and
his head was always bent forward, giving him the
appearance of being hump-backed. He appeared

186 IN THE OLD WEST

to look neither to the right nor left, but, in
fact his little twinkling eye was everywhere. He
looked at no one he was addressing, always seem-
ing to be thinking of something else than the sub-
ject of his discourse, speaking in a whining, thin,
cracked voice, and in a tone that left the hearer
in doubt whether he was laughing or crying. On
the present occasion he had joined this band, and
naturally assumed the leadership (for Bill ever
refused to go in harness), in opposition to his
usual practice, which was to hunt alone. His
character was well known. Acquainted with
every inch of the Far West, and with all the In-
dian tribes who inhabited it, he never failed to
outwit his red enemies, and generally made his
appearance at the rendezvous, from his solitary
expeditions, with galore of beaver, when numerous
bands of trappers dropped in on foot, having
been despoiled of their packs and animals by the
very Indians through the midst of whom old Wil-
liams had contrived to pass unseen and unmolested.
On occasions when he had been in company with
others, and attacked by Indians, Bill invariably
fought manfully, and with all the coolness that
perfect indifference to death or danger could give,
but always " on his own hook." His rifle cracked
away merrily, and never spoke in vain; and in a
charge — if ever it came to that — his keen-
edged butcher-knife tickled the fleece of many a
Blackfoot. But, at the same time, if he saw that

IN THE OLD WEST 187

discretion was the better part of valor, and affairs
wore so cloudy an aspect as to render retreat ad-
visable, he would first express his opinion in curt
terms, and decisively, and, charging up his rifle,
would take himself off and cache * so effectually
that to search for him was utterly useless. Thus,
when with a large party of trappers, when any-
thing occurred which gave him a hint that trouble
was coming, or more Indians were about than he
considered good for his animals, Bill was wont
to exclaim —

" Do 'ee hyar now, boys, thar's sign about?
this hoss feels like caching"; and without more
words, and stoically deaf to all remonstrances,
he would forthwith proceed to pack his animals,
talking the while to an old crop-eared raw-boned
Nez-perce pony, his own particular saddle-horse,
who in dogged temper and iron hardiness, was a
worthy companion of his self-willed master. This
beast, as Bill seized his apishamore to lay upon
its galled back, would express displeasure by
humping its back and shaking its withers with a
wincing motion, that always excited the ire of
the old trapper ; and no sooner had he laid the
apishamore smoothly on the chafed skin, than a
wriggle of the animal shook it off.

" Do 'ee hyar now, you darned crittur ? " he
would whine out, " can't 'ee keep quiet your old
fleece now? Isn't this old coon putting out to

* Hide — from cacher.

188 IN THE OLD WEST

save 'ee from the darned Injuns now, do 'ee
hyar? " And then, continuing his work and tak-
ing no notice of his comrades, who stood by ban-
tering the eccentric old trapper, he would solilo-
quize — " Do 'ee hyar now ? This nigger sees
sign ahead — he does ! he'll be afoot afore long,
if he don't keep his eye skinned — "he will. In-
jwis is all about, they are: Blackfoot at that.
Can't come round this child — they can't, wagh ! "
And at last, his pack-animals securely tied to the
tail of his horse, he wpuld mount, and throwing
the rifle across the horn of his saddle, and with-
out noticing his companions, would drive the
jingling spurs into his horse's gaunt sides, and
muttering, " Can't come round this child — they
can't ! " would ride away ; and nothing more would
be seen or heard of him perhaps for months,
when they would not unfrequently, themselves
bereft of animals in the scrape he had foreseen,
find him located in some solitary valley, in his
lonely camp, with his animals securely picketed
around, and his peltries safe.

However, if he took it into his head to keep
company with a party, all felt perfectly secure
under his charge. His iron frame defied fatigue,
and at night, his love for himself and his own
animals was sufficient guarantee that the camp
would be well guarded. As he rode ahead, his
spurs jingling and thumping the sides of his old
horse at every step, he managed, with admirable

IN THE OLD WEST 189

dexterity, to take advantage of the best line of
country to follow — avoiding the gullies and
canons and broken ground, which would other-
wise have impeded his advance. This tact ap-
peared instinctive, for he looked neither right nor
left, whilst continuing a course as straight as
possible at the foot of the mountains. In select-
ing a camping-site he displayed equal skill: wood,
water, and grass began to fill his thoughts towards
sundown; and when these three requisites for a
camping-ground presented themselves, old Bill
sprang from his saddle, unpacked his animals in
a twinkling and hobbled them, struck fire and ig-
nited a few chips (leaving the rest to pack in the
wood), lit his pipe, and enjoyed himself.

On one occasion, when passing through the
valley, they had come upon a band of fine buffalo
cows, and, shortly after camping, two of the party
rode in with a good supply of fat fleece. One of
the party was a " greenhorn " on his first hunt,
fresh from a fort on Platte, and as yet uniniti-
ated in the mysteries of mountain cooking. Bill,
lazily smoking his pipe, called to him, as he hap-
pened to be nearest, to butcher off a piece of meat
and put it in his pot. Markhead seized the fleece,
and commenced innocently carving off a huge
ration, when a gasping roar from the old trapper
caused him to drop his knife. " Ti-ya," growled
Bill, " do 'ee hyar, now, you darned greenhorn, do
'ee spile fat cow like that whar you was raised?

190 IN THE OLD WEST

Them doins won't shine in this crowd, boy, do
'ee hyar, darn you? What! butcher meat across
the grain ! why, whar'll the blood be goin' to, you
precious Spaniard? Down the grain, I say," he
continued, in a severe tone of rebuke, " and let
your flaps be long, or out the juice '11 run slick
— do 'ee hyar, now ? " But this heretical error
nearly cost the old trapper his appetite, and all
night long he grumbled his horror at seeing " fat
cow spiled in that fashion."

When two or three days' journey brought them
to the end of the valley, and they commenced the
passage of the mountain, their march was ob-
structed by all kinds of obstacles; although they
had chosen what appeared to be a gap in the
chain, and what was in fact the only practicable
passage in that vicinity. They followed the canon
of a branch of the Yellow Stone, where it entered
the mountain ; but from this point it became a tor-
rent, and it was only by dint of incredible exer-
tions that they reached the summit of the ridge.
Game was exceedingly scarce in the vicinity, and
they suffered extremely from hunger, having, on
more than one occasion, recourse to the parfleche
soles of their moccasins to allay its pangs. Old
Bill, however, never grumbled; he chewed away
at his shoes with relish even, and as long as he had
a pipeful of tobacco in his pouch was a happy
man. Starvation was as yet far off, for all their
animals were in existence ; but as they were in a

IN THE OLD WEST 191

country where it was difficult to procure a re-
mount, each trapper hesitated to sacrifice one of
his horses to his appetite.

From the summit of the ridge, Bill recognized
the country on the opposite side to that whence
they had just ascended as familiar to him, and
pronounced it to be full of beaver, as well as
abounding in the less desirable commodity of In-
dians. This was the valley lying about the lakes
now called Eustis and Biddle, in which are many
thermal and mineral springs, well known to the
trappers by the names of the Soda, Beer, and
Brimstone Springs, and regarded by them with
no little awe and curiosity, as being the breathing-
places of his Satanic majesty — considered, more-
over, to be the " biggest kind " of " medicine " to
be found in the mountains. If truth be told, old
Bill hardly relished the idea of entering this coun-
try, which he pronounced to be of " bad medicine "
notoriety, but nevertheless agreed to guide them to
the best trapping-ground.

One day they reached a creek full of beaver-
sign, and determined to halt here and establish
their headquarters, while they trapped in the
neighborhood. We must here observe, that at
this period — which was one of considerable
rivalry amongst the various trading companies in
the Indian territory — the Indians, having be-
come possessed of arms and ammunition in great
quantities, had grown unusually daring and perse-

192 IN THE OLD WEST

vering in their attacks on the white hunters who
passed through their country, and consequently
the trappers were compelled to roam about in
larger bands for mutual protection, which, al-
though it made them less liable to open attack,
yet rendered it more difficult for them to pursue
their calling without being discovered; for, where
one or two men might pass unseen, the broad trail
of a large party, with its animals, was not likely
to escape the sharp eyes of the cunning savages.

They had scarcely encamped when the old leader,
who had sallied out a short distance from camp
to reconnoiter the neighborhood, returned with
an Indian moccasin in his hand, and informed
his companions that its late owner and others
were about.

" Do 'ee hyar, now, boys ? thar's Injuns knock-
ing round, and Blackfoot at that; but thar's
plenty of beaver too, and this child means trap-
ping anyhow."

His companions were anxious to leave such dan-
gerous vicinity; but the old fellow, contrary to
his usual caution, determined to remain where he
was — saying that there were Indians all over the
country, for that matter; and as they had deter-
mined to hunt here, he had made up his mind to
— which was conclusive, and all agreed to stop
where they were, in spite of the Indians. La
Bonte killed a couple of mountain sheep close to
camp, and they feasted rarely on the fat mutton

IN THE OLD WEST 193

that night, and were unmolested by marauding
Blackfeet.

The next morning, leaving two of their num-
ber in camp, they started in parties of two, to
hunt for beaver-sign and set their traps. Mark-
head paired with one Batiste, Killbuck and La
Bonte formed another couple, Meek and Marcelline
another; two Canadians trapped together, and
Bill Williams and another remained to guard the
camp : but this last, leaving Bill mending his moc-
casins, started off to kill a mountain sheep, a band
of which animals was visible.

Markhead and his companion, the first couple
on the list, followed a creek, which entered that
on which they had encamped, about ten miles dis-
tant. Beaver sign was abundant, and they had
set eight traps, when Markhead came suddenly
upon fresh Indian sign, where squaws had passed
through the shrubbery on the banks of the stream
to procure water, as he knew from observing a
large stone placed by them in the stream, on
which to stand to enable them to dip their kettles
in the deepest water. Beckoning to his compan-
ion to follow, and cocking his rifle, he carefully
pushed aside the bushes, and noiselessly proceeded
up the bank, when, creeping on hands and knees,
he gained the top, and, looking from his hiding-
place, descried three Indian huts standing on a
little plateau near the creek. Smoke curled from
the roofs of branches, but the skin doors were care-

IN THE OLD WEST

fully closed, so that he was unable to distinguish
the number of the inmates. At a little distance,
however, he observed two or three squaws gather-
ing wood, with the usual attendance of curs, whose
acuteness in detecting the scent of strangers was
much to be dreaded.

Markhead was a rash and daring young fellow,
caring no more for Indians than he did for prairie
dogs, and acting ever on the spur of the moment,
and as his inclination dictated, regardless of con-
sequences. He at once determined to enter the
lodges, and attack the enemy should any be there ;
and the other trapper was fain to join him in the
enterprise. The lodges proved empty, but the
fires were still burning, and meat cooking upon
them, to which the hungry hunters did ample jus-
tice, besides helping themselves to whatever goods
and chattels, in the shape of leather and moc-
casins, took their fancy.

Gathering their spoil into a bundle, they sought
their horses, which they had left tied under cover
of the timber on the banks of the creek ; and,
mounting, took the back trail, to pick up their
traps and remove from so dangerous a neighbor-
hood. They were approaching the spot where
the first trap was set, a thick growth of ash and
quaking-ash concealing the stream, when Mark-
head, who was riding ahead, observed the bushes
agitated, as if some animal was making its way
through them. He instantly stopped his horse,

IN THE OLD WEST 195

and his companion rode to his side, to inquire the
cause of this abrupt halt. They were within a
few yards of the belt of shrubs which skirted the
stream; and before Markhead had time to reply,
a dozen swarthy heads and shoulders suddenly
protruded from the leafy screen, and as many
rifle-barrels and arrows were pointing at their
breasts. Before the trappers had time to turn
their horses and fly, a cloud of smoke burst from
the thicket almost in their faces. Batiste,
pierced with several balls, fell dead, and Mark-
head felt himself severely wounded. However, he
struck the spurs into his horse ; and as some half-
score Blackfeet jumped with loud cries from their
cover, he discharged his rifle amongst them, and
galloped off, a volley of balls and arrows whistling
after him. He drew no bit until he reined up at
the camp-fire, where he found Bill quietly dressing
a deer-skin. That worthy looked up from his
work ; and seeing Markhead's face streaming with
blood, and the very unequivocal evidence of an In-
dian rencontre in the shape of an arrow sticking
in his back, he asked, — " Do 'ee feel bad, now, boy ?
Whar away you see them darned Blackf oot ? "

" Well, pull this arrow out of my back, and
maybe I'll feel like telling," answered Markhead.

" Do 'ee hyar, now? hold on till I've grained
this cussed skin, will 'ee? Did 'ee ever see sich
a darned pelt, now? it won't take the smoke any-
how I fix it." And Markhead was fain to wait

196 IN THE OLD WEST

the leisure of the imperturbable old trapper, be-
fore he was eased of his annoying companion.

Old Bill expressed no surprise or grief when in-
formed of the fate of poor Batiste. He said it
was "just like greenhorns, runnin' into them
cussed Blackf oot " ; and observed that the defunct
trapper, being only a Vide Poche,* was " no ac-
count anyhow." Presently Killbuck and La,
Bonte galloped into camp, with another alarm
of Indians. They had also been attacked sud-
denly by a band of Blackfeet, but, being in a
more open country, had got clear off, after killing
two of their assailants, whose scalps hung at the
horns of their saddles. They had been in a dif-
ferent direction to that in which Markhead and
his companion had proceeded, and from the signs
they had observed, expressed their belief that the
country was alive with Indians. Neither of these
men had been wounded. Presently the two Cana-
dians made their appearance on the bluff, gallop-
ing with might and main to camp, and shouting
" Indians ! Indians ! " as they came. All being
assembled and a council held, it was determined
to abandon the camp and neighborhood immedi-
ately. Old Bill was already packing his animals,
and as he pounded the saddle down on the withers
of his old Rosinante, he muttered — " Do 'ee hyar,
now? this coon '11 cache, he will." So mounting
his horse, and leading his pack-mule by a lariat,
*Carondelet Creole. (Ed.)

IN THE OLD WEST 197

he bent over his saddle-horn, dug his ponderous
rowels into the lank sides of his beast, and, with-
out a word, struck up the bluff and disappeared.

The others, hastily gathering up their packs,
and most of them having lost their traps, quickly
followed his example, and " put out." On crest-
ing the high ground which rose from the creek,
they observed thin columns of smoke mounting
into the air from many different points, the mean-
ing of which they were at no loss to guess. How-
ever, they were careful not to show themselves
on elevated ground, keeping as much as possible
under the banks of the creek, when such a course
was practicable; but, the bluffs sometimes rising
precipitously from the water, they were more than
once compelled to ascend the banks, and continue
their course along the uplands, whence they might
easily be discovered by the Indians. It was
nearly sundown when they left their camp, but
they proceeded during the greater part of the
night at as rapid a rate as possible; their prog-
ress, however, being greatly retarded as they ad-
vanced into the mountain, their route lying up
stream. Towards morning they halted for a brief
space, but started again as soon as daylight per-
mitted them to see their way over the broken
ground.

The creek now forced its way through a narrow
canon, the banks being thickly clothed with a
shrubbery of cottonwood and quaking-ash. The

198 IN THE OLD WEST

mountain rose on each side, but not abruptly, be-
ing here and there broken into plateaus and shelv-
ing prairies. In a very thick bottom, sprinkled
with coarse grass, they halted about noon, and re-
moved the saddles and packs from their wearied
animals, picketing them in the best spots of
grass.

La Bonte and Killbuck, after securing their
animals, left the camp to hunt, for they had no
provisions of any kind; and a short distance be-
yond it, the former came suddenly upon a recent
moccasin-track in the timber. After examining it
for a moment, he raised his head with a broad grin,
and, turning to his companion, pointed into the
cover, where, in the thickest part, they discerned
the well-known figure of old Bill's horse, browsing
upon the cherry-bushes. Pushing through the
thicket in search of the brute's master, La Bonte
suddenly stopped short as the muzzle of a rifle-
barrel gaped before his eyes at the distance of a
few inches, whilst the thin voice of Bill muttered —

" Do 'ee hyar now, I was nigh giving 'ee h — — :
I was now. If I didn't think 'ee was Blackfoot I'm
dogged now." And not a little indignant was the
old fellow that his cache had been so easily though
accidentally discovered. However, he presently
made his appearance in camp, leading his animals
and once more joined his late companions, not
deigning to give any explanation as to why or
wherefore he had deserted them the day before,

IN THE OLD WEST 199

merely muttering, " Do 'ee hyar now ? thar's
trouble cominV

The two hunters returned after sundown with
a black-tailed deer; and after eating the better
part of the meat, and setting a guard, the party
were glad to roll in their blankets and enjoy the
rest they so much needed. They were undisturbed
during the night ; but at dawn of day the sleepers
were roused by a hundred fierce yells, from the
mountains enclosing the creek on which they had
encamped. The yells were instantly followed by
a ringing volley, the bullets thudding into the
trees, and cutting the branches near them, but
without causing any mischief. Old Bill rose from
his blanket and shook himself, and exclaimed
" Wagh ! " as at that moment a ball plumped into
the fire over which he was standing, and knocked
the ashes about in a cloud. All the mountaineers
seized their rifles and sprang to cover; but as yet
it was not sufficiently light to show them their
enemy, the bright flashes from the guns alone in-
dicating their position. As morning dawned,
however, they saw that both sides of the canon
were occupied by the Indians ; and, from the firing,
judged there must be at least a hundred warriors
engaged in the attack. Not a shot had yet been
fired by the trappers, but as the light increased,
they eagerly watched for an Indian to expose him-
self, and offer a mark to their trusty rifles. La
Bonte, Killbuck, and old Bill, lay a few yards dis-

200 IN THE OLD WEST

tant from each other, flat on their faces, near the
edge of the thicket, their rifles raised before them,
and the barrels resting in the forks of convenient
bushes. From their place of concealment to the
position of the Indians — who, however, were
scattered here and there, wherever a rock afforded
them cover — was a distance of about 150 yards,
or within fair rifle-shot. The trappers were
obliged to divide their force, since both sides of
the creek were occupied ; but such was the nature
of the ground, and the excellent cover afforded by
the rocks and bowlders, and clumps of dwarf pine
and hemlock, that not a hand's-breadth of an In-
dian's body had yet been seen. Nearly opposite
La Bonte, a shelving glade in the mountain-side
ended in an abrupt precipice, and at the very edge,
and almost toppling over it, were several bowlders,
just of sufficient size to afford cover to a man's
body. As this bluff overlooked the trappers'
position, it was occupied by the Indians, and every
rock covered an assailant. At one point, just
over where La Bonte and Killbuck were lying, two
bowlders lay together, with just sufficient interval
to admit a rifle-barrel between them, and from
this breastwork an Indian kept up a most annoy-
ing fire. All his shots fell in dangerous propin-
quity to one or other of the trappers, and already
Killbuck had been grazed by one better directed
than the others. La Bonte watched for some
time in vain for a chance to answer this persever-

IN THE OLD WEST 201

ing marksman, and at length an opportunity of-
fered, by which he was not long in profiting.

The Indian, as the light increased, was better
able to discern his mark, and fired, and yelled
every time he did so, witn redoubled vigor. In
his eagerness, and probably whilst in the act of
taking aim, he leaned too heavily against the rock
which covered him, and, detaching it from its posi-
tion, down it rolled into the canon, exposing his
body by its fall. At the same instant, a wreath
of smoke puffed from the bushes which concealed
the trappers, and the crack of La Bonte's rifle
spoke the first word of reply to the Indian chal-
lenge. A few feet behind the rock fell the dead
body of the Indian, rolling down the steep sides of
the canon, and only stopped by a bush at the very
bottom, within a few yards of the spot where
Markhead lay concealed in some high grass.

That daring fellow instantly jumped from his
cover, and drawing his knife, rushed to the body,
and in another moment, held aloft the Indian's
scalp, giving, at the same time, a triumphant
whoop. A score of rifles were leveled and dis-
charged at the intrepid mountaineer; but in the
act many Indians incautiously exposed themselves,
every rifle in the timber cracked simultaneously,
and for each report an Indian bit the dust.

Now, however, they changed their tactics.
Finding they were unable to drive the trappers
from their position, they retired from the moun-

IN THE OLD WEST

tain, and the firing suddenly ceased. In their
retreat they were forced to expose themselves, and
again the whites dealt destruction amongst them.
As the Indians retired, yelling loudly, the hunters
thought they had given up the contest; but pres-
ently a cloud of smoke rising from the bottom im-
mediately below them, at once discovered the na-
ture of their plans. A brisk wind was blowing up
the canon ; and, favored by it, they fired the brush
on the banks of the stream, knowing that before
this the hunters must speedily retreat.

Against such a result, but for the gale of wind
which drove the fire roaring before it, they could
have provided — for your mountaineer never fails
to find resources on a pinch. They would have fired
the brush to leeward of their position, and also
carefully ignited that to windward, or between
them and the advancing flame, extinguishing it
immediately when a sufficient space had thus been
cleared over which the flame could not leap, and
thus cutting themselves off from it both above and
below their position. In the present instance they
could not profit by such a course, as the wind was
so strong that, if once the bottom caught fire,
they would not be able to extinguish it; besides
which, in the attempt, they would so expose them-
selves that they would be picked off by the In-
dians without difficulty. As it was, the fire came
roaring before the wind with the speed of a race-
horse, and, spreading from the bottom, licked the

IN THE OLD WEST £03

mountain-sides, the dry grass burning like tinder.
Huge volumes of stifling smoke rolled before it>
and in a very few minutes the trappers were
hastily mounting their animals, driving the packed
ones before them. The dense clouds of smoke con-
cealed everything from their view, and, to avoid
this, they broke from the creek and galloped up
the sides of the canon on to the more level plateau.
As they attained this, a band of mounted Indians
charged them. One, waving a red blanket, dashed
through the cavallada, and was instantly followed
by all the loose animals of the trappers, the rest of
the Indians pursuing with loud shouts. So sud-
den was the charge, that the whites had not power
to prevent the stampede. Old Bill, as usual, led
his pack-mules by the lariat ; but the animals, mad
with terror at the shouts of the Indians, broke
from him, nearly pulling him out of his seat at
the same time. To cover the retreat of the others
with their" prey, a band of mounted Indians now
appeared, threatening an attack in front, whilst
their first assailants, rushing from the bottom, at
least a hundred strong, assaulted in rear. " Do
'ee hyar, boys ? " shouted old Bill, " break, or
you'll go under. This child's go in' to cache ! "
and saying the word, off he went. Sauve qui pent
was the order of the day, and not a moment too
soon, for overwhelming numbers were charging
upon them, and the mountain resounded with sav-
age yells. La Bonte and Killbuck stuck together:

204 IN THE OLD WEST

they saw old Bill, bending over his saddle, dive
right into the cloud of smoke, and apparently
make for the creek bottom — their other com-
panions scattering each on his own hook, and saw
no more of them for many a month ; and thus was
one of the most daring and successful bands
broken up that ever trapped in the mountains of
the Far West.

It is painful to follow the steps of the poor fel-
lows who, thus despoiled of the hardly-earned
produce of their hunt, saw all their wealth torn
from them at one swoop. The two Canadians
were killed upon the night succeeding that of the
attack. Worn with fatigue, hungry and cold,
they had built a fire in what they thought was a
secure retreat, and, rolled in their blankets, were
soon buried in a sleep from which they never
awoke. An Indian boy tracked them, and
watched their camp. Burning with the idea of
signalizing himself thus early, he awaited his op-
portunity, and noiselessly approaching their rest-
ing-place, shot them both with arrows, and re-
turned in triumph to his people with their horses
and scalps.

La Bonte and Killbuck sought a passage in the
mountain by which to cross over to the head-
waters of the Columbia, and there fall in with
some of the traders or trappers of the North-
West. They became involved in the mountains,
in a part where was no game of any description,

IN THE OLD WEST 205

and no pasture for their miserable animals. One
of these they killed for food; the other, a bag of
bones, died from sheer starvation. They had very
little ammunition, their moccasins were worn out,
and they were unable to procure skins to supply
themselves with fresh ones. Winter was fast ap-
proaching; the snow already covered the moun-
tains; and storms of sleet and hail poured inces-
santly through the valleys, benumbing their ex-
hausted limbs, hardly protected by scanty and
ragged covering. To add to their miseries, poor
Killbuck was taken ill. He had been wounded in
the groin by a bullet some time before, and the
ball still remained. The wound, aggravated by
walking and the excessive cold, assumed an ugly
appearance, and soon rendered him incapable of
sustained exertion, all motion even being attended
with intolerable pain. La Bonte had made a
shanty for his suffering companion, and spread a
soft bed of pine branches for him, by the side of a
small creek at the point where it came out of the
mountain and followed its course through a little
prairie. They had been three days without other
food than a piece of parfleche, which had formed
the back of La Bonte' s bullet-pouch, and which,
after soaking in the creek, they eagerly devoured.
Killbuck was unable to move, and sinking fast
from exhaustion. His companion had hunted
from morning till night, as well as his failing
strength would allow him, but had not seen the

£06 IN THE OLD WEST

traces of any kind of game, with the exception
of some old buffalo-tracks, made apparently
months before by a band of bulls crossing the
mountain.

The morning of the fourth day, La Bonte as
usual rose at daybreak from his blanket, and was
proceeding to collect wood for the fire during his
absence while hunting, when Killbuck called to
him, and in an almost inarticulate voice desired
him to seat himself by his side.

" Boy," he said, " this old hoss feels like goin'
under, and that afore long. You're stout yet,
and if thar was meat handy, you'd come round
slick. Now, boy, I'll be under, as I said, afore
many hours, and if you don't raise meat you'll be
in the same fix. I never eat dead meat * myself,
and wouldn't ask no one to do it neither ; but meat
fair killed is meat any way; so, boy, put your
knife in this old nigger's lights, and help yourself.
It's ' poor bull,' I know, but maybe it'll do to keep
life in ; and along the fleece thar's meat yet, and
maybe my old hump-ribs has picking on 'em."

" You're a good old hoss," answered La Bonte,
" but this child ain't turned nigger yet."

Killbuck then begged his companion to leave
Lira to his fate, and strive himself to reach game ;
but this alternative La Bonte likewise generously
refused-, and, faintly endeavoring to cheer the sick
man, left him once again to look for game. He

* Carrion.

IN THE OLD WEST 207

was so weak that he felt difficulty in supporting
himself; and knowing how futile would be his at-
tempts to hunt, he sallied from the camp, con-
vinced that a few hours more would see the last of
him.

He had scarcely raised his eyes, when, hardly
crediting his senses, he saw within a few hundred
yards of him an old bull, worn with age, lying on
the prairie. Two wolves were seated on their
haunches before him, their tongues lolling from
their mouths, whilst the buffalo was impotently
rolling his ponderous head from side to side, his
bloodshot eyes glaring fiercely at his tormentors,
and flakes of foam, mixed with blood, dropping
from his mouth over his long shaggy beard. La
Bonte was transfixed; he scarcely dared to
breathe, lest the animal should be alarmed and es-
cape. Weak as it was, he could hardly have fol-
lowed it, and, knowing that his own and compan-
ion's life hung upon the success of his shot, he
scarcely had strength to raise his rifle. By dint
of extraordinary exertions and precautions —
which were totally unecessary, for the poor old
bull had not a move in him — the hunter ap-
proached within shot. Lying upon the ground,
he took a long steady aim, and fired. The buf-
falo raised its matted head, tossed it wildly for
an instant, and, stretching out its limbs convul-
sively, turned over on its side and was dead.

Killbuck heard the shot, and, crawling from

208 IN THE OLD WEST

under the little shanty which covered his bed, saw,
to his astonishment, La Bonte in the act of butch-
ering a buffalo within two hundred yards of camp.
" Hurraw for you ! " he faintly exclaimed ; and ex-
hausted by the exertion he had used, and perhaps
by the excitement of an anticipated feast, fell back
and fainted.

However, the killing was the easiest matter, for
when the huge carcass lay dead upon the ground,
our hunter had hardly strength to drive the blade
of his knife through the tough hide of the old
patriarch. Then, having cut off as much of the
meat as he could carry, eating the while sundry
portions of the liver, which he dipped in the gall-
bladder by way of relish, La Bonte cast a wistful
look upon the half-starved wolves, who now loped
round and round, licking their chops, only waiting
until his back was turned to fall to with appetite
equal to his own, and capabilities of swallowing
and digesting far superior. La Bonte looked at
the buffalo and then at the wolves, leveled his
rifle and shot one dead, at which the survivor
scampered off without delay.

Arrived at camp, packing in a tolerable load of
the best part of the animal — for hunger lent him
strength — he found poor Killbuck lying on his
back, deaf to time, and to all appearance gone
under. Having no sal-volatile or vinaigrette at
hand, La Bonte flapped a lump of raw fleece into
his patient's face, and this instantly revived him.

IN THE OLD WEST 209

Then taking the sick man's shoulder, he raised him
tenderly into a sitting posture, and invited, in
kindly accents, " the old hoss to feed," thrusting
at the same time a tolerable slice of liver into his
hand, which the patient looked at wistfully and
vaguely for a few short moments, and then
greedily devoured. It was nightfall by the time
that La Bonte, assisted by many intervals of hard
eating, packed in the last of the meat, which
formed a goodly pile around the fire.

" Poor bull " it was, in all conscience : the labor
of chewing a mouthful of the tenderloin was equal
to a hard day's hunt; but to them, poor starved
fellows, it appeared the richest of meat. They
still preserved a small tin pot, and in this, by
stress of eternal boiling, La Bonte contrived to
make some strong soup, which soon restored his
sick companion to marching order. For himself,
as soon as a good meal had filled him, he was strong
as ever, and employed himself in drying the re-
mainder of the meat for future use. Even the
wolf, bony as he was, was converted into meat, and
rationed them several days. Winter, however,
had set in with such severity, and Killbuck was
still so weak, that La Bonte determined to remain
in his present position until spring, as he now
found that buffalo frequently visited the valley, as
it was more bare of snow than the lowlands, and
afforded them better pasture ; and one morning he
had the satisfaction of seeing a band of seventeen

210 IN THE OLD WEST

bulls within long rifle-shot of the camp, out of
which four of the fattest were soon laid low by his
rifle.

They still had hard times before them, for to-
wards spring the buffalo again disappeared; the
greater part of their meat had been spoiled, ow-
ing to there not being sufficient sun to dry it thor-
oughly ; and when they resumed their journey they
had nothing to carry with them, and had a desert
before them without game of any kind. We pass
over what they suffered. Hunger and thirst were
their portion, and Indians assaulted them at times,
and many miraculous and hair-breadth escapes
they had from these enemies.

CHAPTER VI

THE trail to Oregon, followed by traders and
emigrants, crosses the Rocky Mountains at
a point known as the South Pass, where a
break in the chain occurs of such moderate and
gradual elevation as to permit the passage of
wagons, with tolerable facility. The Sweetwater
Valley runs nearly to the point where the divid-
ing ridge of the Pacific and Atlantic waters throws
off its streams to their respective oceans. At one
end of this valley, and situated on the right bank
of the Sweetwater, a huge isolated mass of
granitic rock rises to the height of three hundred
feet abruptly from the plain.* On the smooth
and scarped surface presented by one of its sides,
are rudely carved the names and initials of
traders, trappers, travelers, and emigrants, who
have here recorded the memorial of their sojourn
in the remote wilderness of the Far West. The
face of the rock is covered with names familiar to
the mountaineers as those of the most renowned
of their hardy brotherhood; while others, again,
occur, better known to the science and literature

* Independence Rock. (Ed.)
211

IN THE OLD WEST

of the Old World than to the unlearned trappers
of the Rocky Mountains. The huge mass is a
well-known landmark to the Indians and moun-
taineers ; and travelers and emigrants hail it as
the halfway beacon between the frontiers of the
United States and the still distant goal of their
long and perilous journey.

It was a hot sultry day in July. Not a breath
of air relieved the intense and oppressive heat of
the atmosphere, unusual here, where pleasant sum-
mer breezes, and sometimes stronger gales, blow
over the elevated plains with the regularity of
trade-winds. The sun, at its meridian height,
struck the dry sandy plain, and parched the
drooping buffalo-grass on its surface ; and its rays,
refracted and reverberating from the heated
ground, distorted every object seen through its
lurid medium. Straggling antelope, leisurely
crossing the adjoining prairie, appeared to be
gracefully moving in mid-air; whilst a scattered
band of buffalo bulls loomed huge and indistinct
in the vapory distance. In the timbered valley of
the river, deer and elk were standing motionless
in the water, under the shade of the overhanging
cot ton woods, seeking a respite from the persever-
ing attacks of swarms of horse-flies and mos-
quitoes ; and now and then a heavy splash was
heard, as they tossed their antlered heads into the
stream, to free them from the venomous insects
that buzzed incessantly about them. In the sandy

IN THE OLD WEST 213

prairie, beetles of an enormous size were rolling
in every direction huge balls of earth, pushing
them with their hind legs with comical persever-
ance; chameleons darted about, assimilating the
hue of their grotesque bodies with the color of the
sand : groups of prairie-dog houses were seen, each
with its inmate barking lustily on the roof ; whilst
under cover of nearly every bush of sage or cactus
a rattlesnake lay glittering in lazy coil. Tanta-
lizing the parched sight, the neighboring peaks
of the lofty Wind River Mountains glittered in a
mantle of sparkling snow; whilst Sweetwater
Mountain, capped in cloud, looked gray and cool,
in striking contrast to the burned-up plains which
lay basking at its foot.

Resting their backs against the rock (on which,
we have said, are now carved the names of many
travelers), and defended from the powerful rays
of the sun by its precipitous sides, two white men
quietly slept. They were gaunt and lantern-
jawed, and clothed in tattered buckskin. Each
held a rifle across his knees, but — strange sight
in this country — one had its pan thrown open,
which was rust-eaten and contained no priming;
the other's hammer was without a flint. Their
faces were as if covered with mahogany-colored
parchment ; their eyes were sunken ; and as their
jaws fell listlessly on their breasts, their cheeks
were hollow, with the bones nearly protruding
from the skin. One was in the prime of manhood,

IN THE OLD WEST

with handsome features ; the other, considerably
past middle age, was stark and stern. Months
of dire privation had brought them to this pass.
The elder of the two was Killbuck, of mountain
fame ; the other was hight La Bonte.

The former opened his eyes, and saw the
buffalo feeding on the plain. " Ho, boy," he
said, touching his companion, " thar's meat a-run-
nin'."

La Bonte looked in the direction the other
pointed, stood up, and hitching round his pouch
and powder-horn, drew the stopper from the lat-
ter with his teeth, and placing the mouth in the
palm of his left hand, turned the horn up and
shook it.

" Not a grain," he said — " not a grain, old
hoss."

" Wagh ! " exclaimed the other, " we'll have to
eat afore long," — and rising, walked into the
prairie. He had hardly stepped two paces, when,
passing close to a sage-bush, a rattlesnake whizzed
a note of warning with its tail. Killbuck grinned,
and taking the wiping-stick from his rifle-barrel,
tapped the snake on the head, and taking it by the
tail, threw it to La Bonte, saying, " hyar's meat,
anyhow." The old fellow followed up his success
by slaying half-a-dozen more, and brought them
in skewered through the head on his wiping-stick.
A fire was soon kindled, and the snakes roasting
before it ; when La Bonte, who sat looking at buf-

IN THE OLD WEST 215

falo which fed close to the rock, suddenly saw them
raise their heads, snuff the air, and scamper to-
wards him. A few minutes afterwards, a huge
shapeless body loomed in the refracted air, ap-
proaching the spot where the buffalo had been
grazing. The hunters looked at it and then at
each other, and ejaculated "Wagh!" Presently
a long white mass showed more distinctly, followed
by another, and before each was a string of ani-
mals.

" Wagons, by hoss and beaver ! Hurrah for
Conestoga ! " exclaimed the trappers in a breath,
as they now observed two white-tilted wagons,
drawn by several pairs of mules, approaching the
very spot where they sat. Several mounted men
were riding about the wagons, and two on horse-
back, in advance of all, were approaching the rock,
when they observed the smoke curling from the
hunters' fire. They halted at sight of this; and
one of the two, drawing a long instrument from a
case, which Killbuck voted a rifle, directed it to-
wards them for a moment, and then lowering it,
again moved forward.

As they drew near, the two poor trappers, al-
though half-dead with joy, still retained their
seats with Indian gravity and immobility of fea-
ture, turning now and then the crackling snakes
which lay on the embers of the fire. The two
strangers approached. One, a man of some fifty
years of age, of middle height and stoutly built,

216 IN THE OLD WEST

was clad in a white shooting- jacket, of cut un-
known in mountain tailoring, and a pair of
trousers of the well-known material called shep-
herd's plaid ; a broad-brimmed Panama shaded his
face, which was ruddy with health and exercise;
a belt round the waist supported a handsome
bowie-knife, and a double-barreled fowling-piece
was slung across his shoulder.

His companion was likewise dressed in a light
shooting-jacket, of many pockets and dandy cut,
rode on an English saddle and in boots, and was
armed with a superb double rifle, glossy from the
case, and bearing few marks of use or service.
He was a tall fine-looking fellow of thirty, with
light hair and complexion; a scrupulous beard
and mustache; a wide-awake hat, with a short
pipe stuck in the band, not very black with smoke ;
an elaborate powder-horn over his shoulder, with
a Cairngorm in the butt as large as a plate ; a blue
handkerchief tied round his throat in a sailor's
knot, and the collar of his shirt turned carefully
over it. He had, moreover, a tolerable idea of his
very correct appearance, and wore Woodstock
gloves.

The trappers looked at them from head to foot,
and the more they looked, the less could they make
them out.

" H — ! " exclaimed La Bonte, emphatically.

" This beats grainin' bull-hide slick," broke
from Killbuck as the strangers reined up at the

IN THE OLD WEST

fire, the younger dismounting, and staring with
wonder at the weather-beaten trappers.

" Well, my men, how are you ? " he rattled out.
" Any game here ? By Jove ! " he suddenly ex-
claimed, seizing his rifle, as at that moment a
large buzzard, the most unclean of birds, flew into
the topmost branch of a cottonwood, and sat, a
tempting shot. " By Jove, there's a chance ! "
cried the mighty hunter ; and, bending low, started
off to approach the unwary bird in the most ap-
proved fashion of northern deer-stalkers. The
buzzard sat quietly, and now and then stretched
its neck to gaze upon the advancing sportsman,
who on such occasions threw himself flat on the
ground, and remained, motionless, in dread o'f
alarming the bird. It was worth while to look at
the countenance of old Killbuck, as he watched
the antics of the " bourgeois " hunter. He
thought at first that the dandy rifleman had really
discovered game in the bottom, and was nothing
loath that there was a chance of his seeing meat;
but when he understood the object of such ma-
neuvers, and saw the quarry the hunter was so care-
fully approaching, his mouth grinned from ear to
ear, and, turning to La Bonte, he said, " Wagh !
"he's some — he is I "

Nothing doubting, however, the stranger ap-
proached the tree on which the bird was sitting,
and, getting well under it, raised his rifle and
fired. Down tumbled the bird ; and the successful

218 IN THE OLD WEST

hunter, with a loud shout, rushed frantically to-
wards it, and bore it in triumph to the camp, earn-
ing the most sovereign contempt from the two
trappers by the achievement.

The other stranger was a quieter character.
He, too, smiled as he witnessed the exultation of
his younger companion (whose horse, by the way,
was scampering about the plain), and spoke kindly
to the mountaineers, whose appearance was clear
evidence of the sufferings they had endured. The
snakes by this time were cooked, and the trappers
gave their new acquaintances the never-failing in-
vitation to " sit and eat." When the latter, how-
ever, understood what the viands were, their looks
expressed the horror and disgust they felt.

" Good God ! " exclaimed the elder, " you surely
cannot eat such disgusting food? "

" This nigger doesn't savy what disgustin' is,"
gruffly answered Killbuck ; " but them as carries
empty paunch three days an' more, is glad to get
snake meat, I'm thinkin'."

" What ! you've no ammunition, then ? "

" Well, we haven't."

" Wait till the wagons come up, and throw away
that abominable stuff, and you shall have some-
thing better, I promise," said the elder of the
strangers.

" Yes," continued the younger ; " some hot pre-
served soup, hotch-potch, and a glass of porter,
will do you: good."

IN THE OLD WEST 219

The trappers looked at the speaker, who was
talking Greek (to them). They thought the
bourgeois were making fun, and did not half like
it, so answered simply, " Wagh ! h — *s full of hosh-
posh and porter."

Two large wagons presently came up, escorted
by some eight or ten stout Missourians. Sub-
lette was amongst the number, well known as a
mountain trader, and under whose guidance the
present party, which formed a pleasure expedition
at the expense of a Scotch sportsman, was lei-
surely making its way across the mountains to the
Columbia. As several mountaineers were in com-
pany, Killbuck and La Bonte recognized more than
one friend, and the former and Sublette were old
campaneros. As soon as the animals were un-
hitched, and camp formed on the banks of the
creek, a black cook set about preparing a meal.
Our two trapping friends looked on with astonish-
ment as the sable functionary drew from the
wagon the different articles he required to furnish
forth a feed. Hams, tongues, tins of preserved
meats, bottles of pickles, of porter, brandy, coffee,
sugar, flour, were tumbled promiscuously on the
prairie; whilst pots and pans, knives, forks,
spoons, plates, &c. &c., displayed their unfamiliar
faces to the mountaineers. " Hosh-posh and por-
ter " did not now appear such Utopian articles as
they had first imagined ; but no one but those who
have lived for years on simple meat and water,

220 IN THE OLD WEST

can understand the relish with which they ac-
cepted the invitation of the Cap'n (as they called
the Scotchman) to "take a horn of liquor."
Killbuck and La Bonte sat in the same position as
when we first surprised them asleep under the
shadow of Independence Rock, regarding the pro-
fuse display of comestibles with scarce-believing
eyes, and childishly helpless from the novelty of
the scene. Each took the proffered half-pint cup,
filled to the brim with excellent brandy — (no
teetotallers they!) — looked once at the amber-
colored surface, and, with the usual mountain
pledge of " here's luck ! " tossed off the grateful
liquor at a breath. This prepared them in some
measure for what was yet in store for them. The
Scotchman bestirred the cook in his work, and
soon sundry steaming pots were lifted from the
fire, and the skillets emptied of their bread — the
contents of the former poured in large flat pans,
while pannikins were filled with smoking coffee.
The two trappers needed no second invitation,
but, seizing each a panful of steaming stew, drew
the butcher-knives from their belts, and fell-to
lustily — the hospitable Scotchman plying them
with more and more, and administering corrective
noggins of brandy the while ; until at last they were
fain to cry " enough," wiped their knives on the
grass, and placed them in their sheaths — a sign
that human nature could no more. How can pen
describe the luxury of the smoke that followed, to

IN THE OLD WEST

lips which had not kissed pipe for many months,
and how the fragrant honey-dew from Old Vir-
ginia was relishingly puffed!

But the Scotchman's bounty did not stop here.
He soon elicited from the lips of the hunters the
narrative of their losses and privations, and
learned that they now, without ammunition and
scarcely clothed, were on their way to Platte Fort,
to hire themselves to the Indian traders in order
to earn another outfit, wherewith once more to be-
take themselves to their perilous employment of
trapping. What was their astonishment to see
their entertainer presently lay out upon the
ground two piles of goods, each consisting of a
four-point Mackinaw, two tin canisters of powder,
with corresponding lead and flints, a pair of moc-
casins, a shirt, and sufficient buckskin to make a
pair of pantaloons ; and how much the more was
the wonder increased when two excellent Indian
horses were presently lassoed from the cavallada,
and with mountain saddle, bridle, and lariats com-
plete, together with the two piles of goods de-
scribed, presented to them " on the prairie " or
" gift-free," by the kind-hearted stranger, who
would not even listen to thanks for the most timely
and invaluable present.

Once more equipped, our two hunters, filled
with good brandy and fat buffalo meat, again
wended on their way ; their late entertainers con-
tinuing their pleasure-trip across the gap of the

IN THE OLD WEST

South Pass, intending to visit the Great Salt Lake,
or Timponogos, of the West. The former were
bound for the North Fork of the Platte, with the
intention of joining one of the numerous trapping
parties which rendezvous at the American Fur
Company's post on that branch of the river. On
a fork of Sweetwater, however, not two days
after the meeting with the Scotchman's wagons,
they encountered a band of a dozen mountaineers,
mounted on fine horses, and well armed and
equipped, traveling along without the usual ac-
companiment of a mulada of pack-animals, two or
three mules alone being packed with meat and
spare ammunition. The band was proceeding at
a smart rate, the horses moving with the gait pe-
culiar to American animals, known as pacing or
racking, in Indian file — each of the mountain-
eers with a long heavy rifle resting across the
horn of his saddle. Amongst them our two
friends recognized Markhead, who had been of the
party dispersed months before by the Blackfeet
on one of the head-streams of the Yellow Stone,
which event had been the origin of the dire suffer-
ings of Killbuck and La Bonte. Markhead, after
running the gauntlet of numerous Indians, through
the midst of whose country he passed with his
usual temerity and utter disregard to danger, suf-
fering hunger, thirst, and cold — those everyday
experiences of mountain life — riddled with balls,
but with three scalps hanging from his belt, made

IN THE OLD WEST

his way to a rendezvous on Bear River, whence he
struck out for the Platte in early spring, in time
to join the band he now accompanied, who were
on a horse-stealing expedition to the Missions of
Upper California. Little persuasion did either
Killbuck or La Bonte require to join the sturdy
freebooters. In five minutes they had gone " files-
about," and at sundown were camping on the well-
timbered bottom of Little Sandy, feasting once
more on delicate hump-rib and tenderloin.

For California, ho !

Fourteen good rifles in the hands of fourteen
mountainmen stout and true, on fourteen strong
horses, of true Indian blood and training — four-
teen cool heads, with fourteen pairs of keen eyes in
them, each head crafty as an Indian's, directing
a right arm strong as steel, and a heart as brave
as grizzly bear's. Before them a thousand miles
of dreary desert or wilderness, overrun by hostile
savages, thirsting for the white man's blood;
famine and drought, the arrows of wily hordes of
Indians — and, these dangers past, the invasion
of the civilized settlements of whites, the least
numerous of which contained ten times their num-
ber of armed and bitter enemies — the sudden
swoop upon their countless herds of mules and
horses, the fierce attack and bloody slaughter ; —
such were the consequences of the expedition these
bold mountaineers were now engaged in. Four-
teen lives of any fourteen enemies who would be

IN THE OLD WEST

rash enough to stay them, were, any day you will,
carried in the rifle-barrels of these stout fellows ;
who, in all the proud consciousness of their phys-
ical qualities, neither thought, nor cared to think,
of future perils; and rode merrily on their way,
rejoicing in the dangers they must necessarily
meet. Never a more daring band crossed the
mountains ; a more than ordinary want of caution
characterized their march, and dangers were reck-
lessly and needlessly invited, which even the older
and more cold-blooded mountaineers seemed not to
care to avoid. They had, each and all, many a
debt to pay the marauding Indians. Grudges for
many privations, for wounds and loss of com-
rades, rankled in their breasts; and not one but
had suffered more or less in property and person
at the hands of the savages, within a few short
months. Threats of vengeance on every Redskin
they met were loud and deep; and the wild war-
songs round their nightly camp-fires, and gro-
tesque scalp-dances, borrowed from the Indians,
proved to the initiated that they were, one and all,
" half-froze for hair." Soon after Killbuck and
La Bonte joined them, they one day suddenly sur-
prised a band of twenty Sioux, scattered on a
small prairie, and butchering some buffalo they
had just killed. Before they could escape, the
whites were upon them with loud shouts, and in
three minutes the scalps of eleven were dangling
from their saddle-horns.

IN THE OLD WEST 225

Struggling up mountains, slipping down preci-
pices, dashing over prairies which resounded with
their Indian songs, charging the Indians wherever
they met them, and without regard to their num-
bers ; frightening with their lusty war-whoops the
miserable Diggers, who were not unfrequently sur-
prised while gathering roots in the mountain
plains, and who, scrambling up the rocks and con-
cealing themselves, like sage rabbits, in holes and
corners, peered, chattering with fear, as the wild
and noisy troop rode by: scarce drawing rein,
they passed rapidly the heads of Green and Grand
Rivers, through a country abounding in game and
in excellent pasture ; encountering in the upland
valleys, through which meandered the well-tim-
bered creeks on which they made their daily
camps, many a band of Yutas, through whom
they dashed at random, caring not whether they
were friends or foes. Passing many other heads
of streams, they struck at last the edge of the
desert, lying along the south-eastern base of the
Great Salt Lake, and which extends in almost un-
broken sterility to the foot of the range of the
Sierra Nevada — a mountain-chain, capped with
perpetual snow, that bounds the northern extrem-
ity of a singular tract of country, walled by
mountains and utterly desert, whose salt lagoons
and lakes, although fed by many streams, find
no outlet to the ocean, but are absorbed in the
spongy soil or thirsty sand which characterize the

IN THE OLD WEST

different portions of this deserted tract. In the
Grand Basin, it is reported, neither human nor
animal life can be supported. No oasis cheers
the wanderer in the unbroken solitude of the vast
wilderness. More than once the lone trapper has
penetrated with hardy enterprise into the salt
plains of the basin, but no signs of beaver or fur-
bearing animal rewarded the attempt. The
ground is scantily covered with coarse unwhole-
some grass that mules and horses refuse to eat;
and the water of the springs, impregnated with
the impurities of the soil through which it perco-
lates, affords but nauseating draughts to the
thirsty traveler.

In passing from the more fertile uplands to the
lower plains, as they descended the streams, the
timber on their banks became scarcer, and the
groves more scattered. The rich buffalo or
grama grass was exchanged for a coarser species,
on which the hard-worked animals soon grew poor
and weak. The thickets of plum and cherry, of
box-elder and quaking-ash, which had hitherto
fringed the creeks, and where the deer and bear
loved to resort — the former to browse on the
leaves and tender shoots, the latter to de-
vour the fruit — now entirely disappeared,
and the only shrub seen was the eternal sage-
bush, which flourishes everywhere in the west-
ern regions in uncongenial soils where other
vegetation refuses to grow. The visible change

IN THE OLD WEST

in the scenery had also a sensible effect on
the spirits of the mountaineers. They traveled
on in silence through the deserted plains ; the hi-
hi-hiya of their Indian chants was no longer heard
enlivening the line of march. More than once a
Digger of the Piyutah tribe took himself and hair
in safety from their path, and almost unnoticed;
but as they advanced they became more cautious
in their movements, and testified, by the vigilant
watch they kept, that they anticipated hostile
attacks even in these arid wastes. They had
passed without molestation through the country
infested by the bolder Indians. The mountain
Yutas, not relishing the appearance of the
hunters, had left them unmolested; but they were
now entering a country inhabited by the most de-
graded and abject of the western tribes; who,
nevertheless, ever suffering from the extremities of
hunger, have their brutish wits sharpened by the
necessity of procuring food, and rarely fail to levy
a contribution of rations, of horse or mule flesh,
on the passenger in their inhospitable country.
The brutish cunning and animal instinct of these
wretches is such, that, although arrant cowards,
their attacks are more feared than those of bolder
Indians. These people — called the Yamparicas
or Root Diggers — are, nevertheless, the degen-
erate descendants of those tribes which once over-
ran that portion of the continent of North
America now comprehended within the boundaries

IN THE OLD WEST

of Mexico, and who have left such startling evi-
dences in their track of a comparatively superior
state of civilization. They now form an outcast
tribe of the great nation of the Apache, which ex-
tends under various names from the Great Salt
Lake along the table-lands on each side of the
Sierra Madre to the tropic of Cancer, where they
merge into what are called the Mexican Indians.
The whole of this nation is characterized by most
abject cowardice; and they even refuse to meet
the helpless Mexicans in open fight — unlike the
Yuta or Comanche, who carry bold and open war-
fare into the territories of their civilized enemy,
and never shrink from hand-to-hand encounter.
The Apaches and the degenerate Diggers pursue
a cowardly warfare, hiding in ambush, and shoot-
ing the passer-by with arrows ; or, dashing upon
him at night when steeped in sleep, they bury
their arrow to the feather in his heaving breast.
As the Mexicans say, " Sin ventaja, no salen; "
they never attack without odds. But they are
not the less dangerous enemies on this account;
and by the small bands of trappers who visit their
country they are the more dreaded by reason of
this cowardly and wolfish system of warfare.

To provide against surprise, therefore, as the
hunters rode along, flankers were extended en
guerilla on each side, mounting the high points
to reconnoiter the country, and keeping a sharp
look-out for Indian sign. At night the animals

IN THE OLD WEST 229

were securely hobbled, and a horse-guard posted
round them — a service of great danger, as the
stealthy cat-like Diggers are often known to steal
up silently, under cover of the darkness, towards
the sentinel, shoot him with their arrows, and, ap-
proaching the animals, cut the hobbles and drive
them away unseen.

One night they encamped on a creek where was
but little of the coarsest pasture, and that little
scattered here and there, so that they were com-
pelled to allow their animals to roam farther than
usual from camp in search of food. Four of the
hunters, however, accompanied them to guard
against surprise ; whilst but half of those in camp
lay down to sleep, the others, with rifles in their
hands, remaining prepared for any emergency.
This day they had killed one of their two pack-
mules for food, game not having been met with
for several days ; but the animal was so poor that
it scarcely afforded more than one tolerable meal
to the whole party.

A short time before the dawn of day an alarm
was given; the animals were heard to snort vio-
lently; a loud shout was heard, followed by the
sharp crack of a rifle, and the tramp of galloping
horses plainly showed that a stampede had been
affected. The whites instantly sprang to their
arms, and rushed in the direction of the sounds.
The body of the cavallada, however, had luckily
turned, and, being headed by the mountaineers,

230 IN THE OLD WEST

were surrounded and secured, with the loss of only
three, which had probably been mounted by the
Indians.

Day breaking soon after, one of their band was
discovered to be missing; and it was then found
that a man who had been standing horse-guard at
the time of the attack, had not come into camp
with his companions. At that moment a thin
spiral column of smoke was seen to rise from the
banks of the creek, telling but too surely the fate
of the missing mountaineer. It was the signal of
the Indians to their people that a coup had been
struck, and that an enemy's scalp remained in
their triumphant hands.

" H ! " exclaimed the trappers in a breath ;

and soon imprecations and threats of revenge,
loud and deep, were showered upon the heads of
the treacherous Indians. Some of the party
rushed to the spot where the guard had stood, and
there lay the body of their comrade, pierced with
lance and arrow, the scalp gone, and the body
otherwise mutilated in a barbarous manner.
Five were quickly in the saddle, mounted upon the
strongest horses, and flying along the track of the
Indians, who had made off towards the mountains
with their prize and booty. We will not follow
them in their work of bloody vengeance, save by
saying that they followed the savages to their
village, into which they charged headlong, re-
covered their stolen horses, and returned to camp

IN THE OLD WEST 231

at sundown with thirteen scalps dangling from
their rifles, in payment for the loss of their unfor-
tunate companion.*

In their further advance, hunger and thirst
were their daily companions : they were compelled
to kill several of their animals for food, but were
fortunate enough to replace them by a stroke of
good-luck in meeting a party of Indians return-
ing from an excursion against one of the Cali-
fornian settlements with a tolerably large band of
horses. Our hunters met this band one fine morn-
ing, and dashed into the midst at once; half-a-
dozen Indians bit the dust, and twenty horses
were turned over from red to white masters in as
many seconds, which remounted those whose ani-
mals had been eaten, and enabled the others to
exchange their worn-out steeds for fresh ones.
This fortunate event was considered a coup, and
the event was celebrated by the slaughter of a fat
young horse, which furnished an excellent supper
that night — a memorable event in these starve-
ling regions.

* In Fremont's expedition to California, on a somewhat
similar occasion, two mountaineers — one the celebrated
Kit Carson, the other a St. Louis Frenchman named Godey,
and both old trappers — performed a feat surpassing the
one described above, inasmuch as they were but two. They
charged into an Indian village to rescue some stolen horses,
and avenge the slaughter of two New Mexicans who had
been butchered by the Indians; both which objects they
effected, returning to camp with the lost animals and a
couple of propitiatory scalps.

IN THE OLD WEST

They were now devouring their horses and
mules at the rate of one every alternate day; for
so poor were the animals that one scarcely fur-
nished an ample meal for the thirteen hungry
hunters. They were once more reduced to the
animals they rode on ; and after a fast of twenty-
four hours' duration, were debating on the pro-
priety of drawing lots as to whose Rosinante
should fill the kettle, when some Indians suddenly
appeared making signs of peace upon the bluff,
and indicating a disposition to enter the camp for
the purpose of trading. Being invited to ap-
proach, they offered to trade a few dressed elk-
skins ; but being asked for meat, they said that
their village was a long way off, and they had
nothing with them but a small portion of some
game they had lately killed. When requested to
produce this they hesitated; but the trappers
looking hungry and angry at the same moment, an
old Indian drew from under his blanket several
flaps of portable dried meat, which he declared
was bear's. It was but a small ration amongst
so many ; but, being divided, was quickly laid
upon the fire to broil. The meat was stringy,
and of whitish color, altogether unlike any
flesh the trappers had before eaten. Killbuck was
the first to discover this. He had been quietly
masticating the last mouthful of his portion, the
stringiness of which required more than usual
dental exertion, when the novelty of the flavor

IN THE OLD WEST

struck him as something singular. Suddenly his
jaws ceased their work, he thought a moment,
took the morsel from his mouth, looked at it in-
tently, and dashed it into the fire.

" Man-meat, by G — ! " he cried out ; and at the
words every jaw stopped work: the trappers
looked at the meat and each other.

" I'm dog-gone if it ain't ! " cried old Walker,
looking at his piece, " and white meat at that,
wagh! " (and report said it was not the first time
he had tasted such viands;) and the conviction
seizing each mind, every mouthful was quickly
spat into the fire, and the ire of the deceived
whites was instantly turned upon the luckless pro-
viders of the feast. They saw the storm that was
brewing, and without more ado turned tail from
the camp, and scuttled up the bluffs, where,
turning round, they fired a volley of arrows
at the tricked mountaineers, and instantly disap-
peared.

However, the desert and its nomad pilferers
were at length passed; the sandy plains became
grass-covered prairies ; the monstrous cottonwood
on the creeks was replaced by oak and ash; the
surface of the country grew more undulating, and
less broken up into canons and ravines; elk and
deer leaped in the bottoms, and bands of antelope
dotted the plains, with occasional troops of wild
horses, too wary to allow the approach of man.
On the banks of a picturesque stream called the

IN THE OLD WEST

San Joaquim the party halted a few days to re-
cruit themselves and animals, feasting the while
on the fattest of venison and other game. They
then struck to the south-east for two days, until
they reached a branch of the Las Animas, a
clear stream running through a pretty valley,
well timbered and abounding in game. Here,
as they wound along the river-banks, a horseman
suddenly appeared upon the bluff above them,
galloping at a furious rate along the edge. His
dress approached in some degree to civilized at-
tire. A broad-brimmed sombrero surmounted
his swarthy face; a colored blanket, through a
slit in which his head was thrust, floated in the
air from his shoulders ; leathern leggings incased
his lower limbs; and huge spurs jingled on his
heels. He rode in a high-peaked Mexican saddle,
his feet thrust in ponderous stirrups, and in his
hand swung a coil of ready lasso, his only of-
fensive arm. One of the trappers knew a little
Spanish, and instantly hailed him.

" Compadre" he shouted, " por onde va? "
The Calif ornian reined in suddenly, throwing the
horse he rode on its very haunches, and, darting
down the bluff, galloped unhesitatingly into the
midst of the hunters.

" Americanos! " he exclaimed, glancing at
them ; and continued, smiling — " Y caballos
quieren, por eso vienen tan lejitos. Jesu$, que
mala gente! " — " It's horses you want, and for

IN THE OLD WEST

this you come all this way. Ah, what rogues you
are!"

He was an Indian, employed at the Mission of
San Fernando, distant three days' journey from
their present position, and was now searching for
a band of horses and mules which had strayed.
San Fernando, it appeared, had once before been
visited by a party of mountain freebooters, and
the Indian therefore divined the object of the pres-
ent one. He was, he told them, " un Indio, pero
mansito " — an Indian, but a tame one ; * " de mas,
Christiana " — a Christian, moreover (exhibiting
a small cross which hung round his neck). There
were many people about the Mission, he said, who
knew how to fight, and had plenty of arms; and
there were enough to " eat up," the " Americanos,
san frijoles," without beans, as he facetiously ob-
served. For his part, however, he was very
friendly to the Americanos; he had once met a
man of that nation who was a good sort of fel-
low, and who had made him a present of tobacco,
of which he was particularly fond. Finding this
hint did not take, he said that the horses and
mules belonging to the Mission were innumerable
• — " like that," he added, sweeping his hand to all
points of the compass over the plain, to intimate
that they would cover that extent; and he could
point out a large herd grazing nearer at hand

* The Mexicans call the Indians living near the Missions
and engaged in agriculture, mansos, or mansitos, "tame."

236 IN THE OLD WEST

than the Mission, and guarded but by three
vaqueros. Regaled with venison, and with a
smoke of his coveted tobacco, he rode off,
and made his way to the Mission without delay,
conveying the startling intelligence that a thou-
sand Americans were upon them.

The next morning the thirteen doughty moun-
taineers quietly resumed their journey, moving
leisurely along towards the object of their expedi-
tion.

It will not be out of place here to digress a
little, in order to describe the singular features of
the establishments formed in those remote regions
by the Catholic Church, as nuclei round which to
concentrate the wandering tribes that inhabit the
country, with a view to give them the benefit of
civilized example, and to wean them from their
restless nomadic habits.

The establishment of Missions in Upper Cali-
fornia is coeval with the first settlement of South-
ern Mexico. No sooner had Spanish rule taken
a firm foothold in the Aztec empire, than the
avowed primary object of the military expedition
began to be carried into effect. " To save the
souls " of the savage and barbarous subjects of
their most Catholic majesties was ever inculcated
upon the governors of the conquered country as
the grand object to be sought after, as soon as
tranquillity was partially restored by the sub-
mission of the Mexicans ; and the Cross, the sacred

IN THE OLD WEST £37

emblem of the Catholic faith, was to be upraised
in the remotest corners of the country, and the
natives instructed and compelled to worship it, in
lieu of the grotesque images of their own idola-
trous religion.

To carry into effect these orthodox instruc-
tions, troops of pious priests, of friars and monks
of every order, and even of saintly nuns, followed
in the wake of the victorious armies of Cortez;
and girding up their loins, with zealous fervor
and enthusiasm, and with an enterprise and hardi-
hood worthy of buccaneers, they pushed their
adventurous way far into the bowels of the land,
preaching devoutly and with commendable perse-
verance to savages who did not understand a syl-
lable of what they so eloquently discoursed ; and
returning, after the lapse of many months passed
in this first attempt, with glowing accounts of the
" rmiy buen indole," the very ductile disposition
of the savages, and of the thousands they had
converted to " la santa fe catolica"

Ferdinand and Isabel, of glorious memory, at
once beat up for volunteers. Crowds of Francis-
can monks, greasy Capuchinos, and nuns of
orthodox odor, joined the band; and saints even
of the feminine gender, long since canonized and
up aloft amongst the goodly muster of saints and
martyrs, put foot once more on terra firma, and,
rosary in hand, crossed the seas to participate in
the good work. As proof of this latter fact, one

238 IN THE OLD WEST

Venabides, a Franciscan, whose veracity is beyond
impeachment, declared that, while preaching in
the regions now known as New Mexico, one million
Indians from the " rumbo " known as Cibolo, a
mighty nation, approached his temporary pul-
pit on the Rio Grande, and requested in a body
the favor of being baptized. Struck with the
singularity of this request from Indians with
whom he had as yet held no communication, and
with conscientious scruple as to whether he would
be justified in performing such ceremony without
their having received previous instruction, he hesi-
tated a few moments before making an answer.
At this juncture the Indians espied a medallion
which hung around his neck, bearing the effigy of
a certain saint of extraordinary virtue. At sight
of this they fell on their knees before it ; and it
was some time before they found words (in what
language does not appear) to explain to the holy
father that the original of that effigy, which
hung pendant from his neck, had been long
amongst them instructing them in the elements
of the Christian religion, and had only lately dis-
appeared; informing them that certain reverend
men would shortly appear in the land, who would
finish the good work she had devoutly commenced,
and clench the business by baptizing the one mil-
lion miserable sinners who now knelt before El
Padre Venabides.

" Valgame Dios! " reverently exclaimed that

IN THE OLD WEST 239

worthy man, " qui milagro es este! " [what a mir-
acle is this I hear !] and casting up his eyes, and
speaking slowly, as if he weighed every word, and
taxing his memory of the historical calendar of
saints, continued, —

" Se murio — aquella — santissima — muger —
en el ano 175 — es decir — ya hacen — mil —
quatro — cientos — anos." [That most holy
woman died in the year 175 ; that is to say, one
thousand four hundred years ago.]

" Oh, what a strange thing is this ! " the padre
continues devoutly. " After so many ages spent
in heaven in company of the angels, of most holy
men, and of virgins the most pure — and, per-
haps, also in the company of my worthy and es-
teemed friend and patron, Don Vincente Car-
vajal y Calvo, who died a few years ago in San
Lucar Xeres (bequeathing me certain arrobas
of dry wine, of a class I greatly esteem — for
which act he deserved to be canonized, and, I have
no doubt, is), the said Don Vincente Carvajal y
Calvo being, moreover, a man of the purest and
holiest thoughts (Dios mio! what a puchero that
man always had on his table ! ) — this holy
woman comes here, to these wild and remote
regions; this holy woman (who died fifteen hun-
dred years ago), abandoning the company of
angels, of holy men, and sanctified women and vir-
gins, and also of Don Vincente Carvajal y Calvo
(that worthy man!) — comes here, I say, where

240 IN THE OLD WEST

there are neither pucheros, nor garbanzos, nor
dry wine, nor sweet wine, neither of Xeres, nor
of Val de Pefias, nor of Peralta; where " (sobbed
the padre, and bellowed the last word) " there is
— nothing either to eat or to drink. Valgame
Purissima Maria! And what is the name of this
holy woman? the world will ask," continues Ven-
abides. " Santa Clara of Carmona is her name,
one well known in my native country, who leaves
heaven and all its joys, wends her way to the dis-
tant wilds of New Spain, and spends years in in-
ducting the savage people to the holy faith.
Truly a pious work, and pleasing to God ! " *

Thus spoke Venabides the Franciscan, and no
doubt he believed what he said; and many others
in Old Spain were fools enough to believe it too,
for the shaven heads flocked over in greater num-
bers, and the cry was ever, " still they come."

Along the whole extent of the table-lands, not
an Indian tribe but was speedily visited by the
preaching friars and monks ; and in less than a
century after the conquest of Mexico by the
Spaniards, these hardy and enthusiastic frayles
had pushed their way into the inhospitable regions
of New Mexico, nearly two thousand miles distant
from the valley of Anahuac. How they succeeded
in surmounting the natural obstacles presented by

* From a manuscript obtained in Santa Fe" of New Mex-
ico, describing the labors of the missionaries Fray Augustin
Ruiz, Venabides, and Marcos, in the year 1585.

IN THE OLD WEST 241

the wild and barren deserts they traversed — how
they escaped the infinite peril they encountered
at every step at the hands of the savage inhabit-
ants of the country, with whose language they
were totally unacquainted — is sufficient puzzle to
those who, in the present day, have attempted a
journey in the same regions.

However, it is impossible not to admire the
hardihood of these holy pioneers of civilization,
who, totally unfitted by their former mode of life
for undergoing such hardships as they must have
anticipated, threw themselves into the wilderness
with fearless and stubborn zeal.

For the most part, however, they found the
Indians exceedingly hospitable and well disposed;
and it was not until some time after — when, re-
ceiving from the missionary monks glowing, and
not always very truthful, accounts of the riches
of the country in which they had located them-
selves, the governors of Mexico dispatched armed
expeditions under adventurous desperadoes to
take and retain possession of the said country,
with orders to compel the submission of the na-
tive tribes, and enforce their obedience to the
authority of the whites — that the simple and con-
fiding Indians began to see the folly they had
committed in permitting the residence amongst
them of these superior beings, whom they had
first looked upon as more than mortal; but who,
when strong enough to do so, were not long in

IN THE OLD WEST

throwing off the mask, and proving to the simple
savages that they were much " more human than
divine."

Thus, in the province of New Mexico, Fray
Augustin Ruiz, with his co-preachers, Marcos and
Venabides, were kindly received by the native in-
habitants, and we have seen how one million (?)
Indians came from the " rumbo " of the Cibolo,
ready and willing to receive the baptismal sacra-
ment. This Cibolo, or Sivulo, as it is written in
some old MSS., is, by the way, mysteriously
alluded to by the monkish historians who have
written on this region, as being a kingdom in-
habited by a very superior class of Indians to any
met with between Anahuac and the vale of Taos
— in the enj oyment of a high state of civilization,
inhabiting a well-built city, the houses of which
were three storeys high, and having attained con-
siderable perfection in the domestic arts. This,
notwithstanding the authority of Don Francisco
Vasquez Coronado, who visited Cibolo, and of
Solis and Venegas, who have guaranteed the as-
sertion, must be received cum grano sails; but, at
all events, the civilization of the mysterious Cibolo
may be compared to that of the Aztec empire un-
der Montezuma, at the time of the Spanish Con-
quest, both being egregiously exaggerated by the
historians of the day. Cibolo was situated on a
river called Tegue. At this day, neither name is
known to the inhabitants of New Mexico. If

IN THE OLD WEST

pate-shaven Venabides had held his tongue, New
Mexico might now be in the peaceful possession
of the Catholic Missions, and the property of the
Church of Mexico pretty considerably enhanced
by the valuable placeres, or gold-washings, which
abound in that province. Full, however, of the
wonderful miracle of Santa Clara of Carmona,
which had been brought to light through the
agency of the medallion at the end of his rosario,
Fray Venabides must needs return to Spain, and
humbug poor old Fernando, and even the more
sensible Isabel, with wonderful accounts of the
riches of the country he had been instrumental in
exploring, and of the excellent disposition of the
natives to receive the Word of God. Don Juan
Onate was therefore quickly dispatched to take
possession; and in his train followed twelve Cas-
tilian families of sangre azul, to colonize the newly-
acquired territory. The names of these still re-
main, disgraced by the degenerate wretches who
now bear them, but in whom scarce a drop of blood
remains which ever filtered from the veins of the
paladins of Old Castile.

Then commenced the troublous times. The
Missions were upheld by dint of steel alone; and
frequently the Indians rose, and often massacred
their white persecutors. The colonists were more
than once driven bodily from New Mexico, and
were only reinstated by the aid of large bodies of
armed men.

244 IN THE OLD WEST

In California, however, they managed these
things better. The wily monks took care to keep
all interlopers from the country, established them-
selves in snug quarters, instructed the Indians in
agriculture ; and soon gained such an ascendency
over them, that no difficulty was experienced in
keeping them under proper and wholesome re-
straint. Strong and commodious Missions were
built and fortified, well stored with arms and am-
munition, and containing sufficient defenders to
defy attack. Luxuriant gardens and thriving
vineyards soon surrounded these isolated stations:
the plains waved with- golden corn; whilst domestic
cattle, thriving on the rich pasture, and roaming
far and near, multiplied and increased a hundred-
fold.

Nothing can be more beautiful than the ap-
pearance of one of these Missions, to the traveler
who has lately passed the arid and barren wilder-
ness of the North-West. The adobe walls of the
convent-looking building, surmounted by cross and
belfry, are generally hidden in a mass of luxuriant
vegetation. Fig-trees, bananas, cherry, and
apple, leaf-spreading platanos, and groves of
olives, form umbrageous vistas, under which the
sleek monks delight to wander; gardens, cultivated
by their own hands, testify to the horticultural
skill of the worthy padres ; whilst vineyards yield
their grateful produce to gladden the hearts of
the holy exiles in these western solitudes. Vast

IN THE OLD WEST 245

herds of cattle roam half-wild on the plains, and
bands of mules and horses, whose fame has even
reached the distant table-lands of the Rocky
Mountains, and excited the covetousness of the
hunters — and thousands of which, from the day
they are foaled to that of their death, never feel
a saddle on their backs — cover the country. In-
dians (Mansitos) idle round the skirts of these
vast herds (whose very numbers keep them to-
gether), living, at their own choice, upon the flesh
of mule, or ox, or horse.

CHAPTER VII

THE Mission of San Fernando is situated
on a small river called Las Animas, a
branch of the Los Martires. The con-
vent is built at the neck of a large plain, at
the point of influx of the stream from the broken
spurs of the sierra. The savanna is covered with
luxuriant grass, kept down, however, by the count-
less herds of cattle which pasture on it. The
banks of the creek are covered with a lofty growth
of oak and poplar, which, near the Mission, have
been considerably thinned for the purpose of af-
fording fuel and building materials for the in-
creasing settlement. The convent stands in the
midst of a grove of fruit-trees, its rude tower and
cross peeping above them, and contrasting pic-
turesquely with the wildness of the surrounding
scenery. Gardens and orchards lie immediately
in front of the building, and a vineyard stretches
away to the upland ridge of the valley. The huts
of the Indians are scattered here and there, built
of stone and adobe, sometimes thatched with flags
and boughs, but comfortable enough. The con-
vent itself is a substantial building, of the style
of architecture characterizing monastic edifices
246

IN THE OLD WEST

in most parts of the world. Loopholes peer from
its plastered walls, and on a flat portion of the
roof a comically-mounted gingall or wall-piece,
carrying a two-pound ball, threatens the assail-
ant in time of war. At one end of the oblong
building, a rough irregular arch of sun-burned
bricks is surmounted by a rude cross, under which
hangs a small but deep-toned bell — the wonder
of the Indian peones, and highly venerated by the
frayles themselves, who received it as a present
from a certain venerable archbishop of Old Spain,
and who, whilst guarding it with reverential awe,
tell wondrous tales of its adventures on the road
to its present abiding-place.

Of late years the number of the canonical in-
mates of the convent has been much reduced —
there being but four priests now to do the duties
of the eleven who formerly inhabited it: Fray
Augustin, a capuchin of due capacity of paunch,
being at the head of the holy quartette. Augustin
is the conventual name of the reverend father, who
fails not to impress upon such casual visitants to
that ultima Thnde as he deems likely to appreciate
the information, that, but for his humility, he
might add the sonorous appellations of Ignacio
Sabanal-Morales-y Fuentes — his family being of
the best blood of Old Castile, and known there since
the days of Ruy Gomez — el — Campeador — pos-
sessing, moreover, half the " vega " of the Ebro,
&c., where, had fate been propitious, he would now

248 IN THE OLD WEST

have been the sleek superior of a rich capuchin
convent, instead of vegetating, a leather-clad
frayle, in the wilds of California Alta.

Nevertheless, his lot is no bad one. With
plenty of the best and fattest meat to eat, whether
of beef or venison, of bear or mountain mutton;
with good wine and brandy of home make, and
plenty of it ; fruit of all climes in great abundance ;
wheaten or corn bread to suit his palate ; a tract-
able flock of natives to guide, and assisted in the
task by three brother shepherds ; far from the
strife of politics or party — secure from hostile
attack (not quite, by the by), and eating, drink-
ing, and sleeping away his time, one would think
that Fray Augustin Ignacio Sabanal-Morales-y
Fuentes had little to trouble him, and had no cause
to regret even the vega of Castilian Ebro, held
by his family since the days of el Campeador.

One evening Fray Augustin sat upon an adobe
bench, under the fig-tree shadowing the porch of
the Mission. He was dressed in a goat-skin jer-
kin, softly and beautifully dressed, and descend-
ing to his hips, under which his only covering —
tell it not in Gath ! — was a long linen shirt, reach-
ing to his knees, and lately procured from Puebla
de los Angeles, as a sacerdotal garment. Boots,
stockings, or unmentionables he had none. A
cigarito, of tobacco rolled in corn shuck, was oc-
casionally placed between his lips; whereupon
huge clouds of smoke rushed in columns from his

IN THE OLD WEST 249

mouth and nostrils. His face was of a golden
yellow color, relieved by arched and very black
eyebrows ; his shaven chin was of most respectable
duplicity — his corporation of orthodox dimen-
sions. Several Indians and half-bred Mexican
women were pounding Indian corn on metates
near at hand; whilst sundry beef-fed urchins of
whitey-brown complexion sported before the door,
exhibiting, as they passed Fray Augustin, a curi-
ous resemblance to the strongly-marked features
of that worthy padre. They were probably his
nieces and nephews — a class of relations often
possessed in numbers by priests and monks.

The three remaining brothers were absent from
the Mission: Fray Bernardo, hunting elk in the
sierra; Fray Jose, gallivanting at Puebla de los
Angeles, ten days' journey distant; Fray Cris-
toval, lassoing colts upon the plain. Augustin,
thus left to his own resources, had just eaten his
vespertine frijolitos and chile Colorado, and was
enjoying a post-coenal smoke of fragrant pouche
under the shadow of his own fig-tree.

Whilst thus employed, an Indian dressed in
Mexican attire approached him hat in hand, and,
making a reverential bow, asked his directions
concerning domestic business of the Mission.

" Hola ! friend Jose," cried Fray Augustin, in
a thick guttural voice, " pensaba yo — I was
thinking that it was very nearly this time three
years ago when those malditos Americanos came

IN THE OLD WEST

by here and ran off with so many of our caval-
lada."

" True, reverend father," answered the admin-
istrator, " just three years ago, all but fifteen
days : I remember it well. Malditos sean — curse
them!"

" How many did we kill, Jose? "

" Quizas moochos — a great many, I daresay.
But they did not fight fairly — charged right
upon us, and gave us no time to do anything.
They don't know how to fight, these Mericanos;
come right at you, before you can swing a lasso,
hallooing like Indios bravos"

" But, Jose, how many did they leave dead on
the field?"

" Not one."

"And we?"

" Valgame Dios! thirteen dead, and many more
wounded."

" That's it ! Now if these savages come again
(and the Chemeguaba, who came in yesterday, says
he saw a large trail), we must fight adentro —
within — outside is no go ; for, as you very prop-
erly say, Jose, these Americans don't know how to
fight, and kill us before — before we can kill
them ! Vayal "

At this moment there issued from the door of
the Mission Don Antonio Velez Trueba, a Gachu-
pin — that is, a native of Old Spain — a wizened
old hidalgo refugee, who had left the mother coun-

IN THE OLD WEST

try on account of his political opinions, which
were stanchly Carlist, and had found his way —
how, he himself scarcely knew — from Mexico to
San Francisco in Upper California, where, hav-
ing a most perfect contempt for everything Mexi-
can, and hearing that in the Mission of San Fer-
nando, far away, were a couple of Spanish padres
of sangre regular, he had started into the wilder-
ness to ferret them out; and having escaped all
dangers on the route (which, however, were hardly
dangers to the Don, who could not realize the idea
of scalp-taking savages), had arrived with a
whole skin at the Mission. There he was received
with open arms by his countryman Fray Augus-
tin, who made him welcome to all the place af-
forded, and there he harmlessly smoked away his
time; his heart far away on the banks of the
Genii and in the grape-bearing vegas of his be-
loved Andalusia, his withered cuerpo in the sier-
ras of Upper California. Don Antonio was the
walking essence of a Spaniard of the ancien
regime. His family dated from the Flood, and
with the exception of sundry refreshing jets of
Moorish blood, injected into the Truebas during
the Moorish epoch, no strange shoot was ever
engrafted on their genealogical tree. The mar-
riages of the family were ever confined to the fam-
ily itself — never looking to fresh blood in a sta-
tion immediately below it, which was not hidal-
gueno ; nor above, since anything higher in rank

252 IN THE OLD WEST

than the Trueba y Trueba family, no habia, there
was not.

Thus, in the male and female scions of the
house, were plainly visible the ill effects of breed-
ing " in and in." The male Truebas were sadly
degenerate Dons, in body as in mind — compared
to their ancestors of Boabdil's day; and the
senoritas of the name were all eyes, and eyes alone,
and hardly of such stamp as would have tempted
that amorous monarch to bestow a kingdom for
a kiss, as ancient ballads tell.

" Dwena de la negra toca,
For un beso de tu boca,

Diera un reyno, Boabdil;
Y yo por ello, Cristiana,
Te diera de buena gana

Mil cielos, si fueran mil."

Come of such poor stock, and reared on to-
bacco-smoke and gazpacho, Don Antonio would
not have shone, even amongst pigmy Mexicans,
for physical beauty. Five feet high, a framework
of bones covered with a skin of Andalusian tint, the
Trueba stood erect and stiff in all the conscious-
ness of his sangre regular. His features were
handsome, but entirely devoid of flesh, his upper
lip was covered with a jet-black mustache mixed
with gray, his chin was bearded "like the pard."
Every one around him clad in deer and goat skin,

IN THE OLD WEST 253

our Don walked conspicuous in shining suit of
black — much the worse for wear, it must be con-
fessed— with beaver hat sadly battered, and
round his body and over his shoulder an unexcep-
tionable capa of the amplest dimensions. Ask-
ing, as he stepped over him, the pardon of an In-
dian urchin who blocked the door, and bowing
with punctilious politeness to the sturdy mozas
who were grinding corn, Don Antonio approached
our friend Augustin, who was discussing warlike
matters with his administrador.

" Hola ! Don Antonio, how do you find your-
self, sir? "

" Perfectly well, and your very humble servant,
reverend father; and your worship also, I trust
you are in good health? "

" Sin novedad — without novelty " ; which,
since it was one hour and a half since our friends
had separated to take their siestas, was not im-
possible.

" Myself and the worthy Jose," continued Fray
Augustin, " were speaking of the vile invasion of
a band of North American robbers, who three
years since fiercely assaulted this peaceful Mis-
sion, killing many of its inoffensive inhabitants,
wounding many more, and carrying off several of
our finest colts and most promising mules to their
dens and caves in the Rocky Mountains. Not
with impunity, however, did they effect this atroc-

254 IN THE OLD WEST

ity. Jose informs me that many of the assail-
ants were killed by my brave Indians. How many
said you, Jose? "

" Qulzas mo-o-ochos," answered the Indian.

" Yes, probably a great multitude," continued
the padre ; " but, unwarned by such well-merited
castigation, it has been reported to me by a
Chemeguaba mansito, that a band of these au-
dacious marauders are now on the road to repeat
the offense, numbering many thousands, well
mounted and armed; and to oppose these white
barbarians it behoves us to make every prepara-
tion of defense." *

" There is no cause for alarm," answered the
Andaluz. " I " (tapping his breast) " have
served in three wars : in that glorious one de la
Independe-ncia, when our glorious patriots drove
the French like sheep across the Pyrenees ; in that
equally glorious one of 1821 ; and, in the late
magnanimous struggle for the legitimate rights
of his majesty Charles V., King of Spain " (doffing
his hat), " whom God preserve. With that right
arm," cried the spirited Don, extending his shriv-
eled member, " I have supported the throne of my
kings — have fought for my country, mowing
down its enemies before me ; and with it," vehe-
mently exclaimed the Gachupin, working himself

* From the report to the Governor of California by the
Head of the Mission, in reference to the attacks by the
American mountaineers.

IN THE OLD WEST 255

into a perfect frenzy, " I will slay these Norte
Americanos, should they dare to show their faces
in my front. Adios, Don Augustin Ignacio
Sabanal-Morales-y Fuentes," he cried, doffing his
hat with an earth-sweeping bow ; " I go to grind
my sword. Till then, adieu."

" A countryman of mine 1 " said the frayle, ad-
miringly, to the administrador. " With him by
our side we need not to fear : neither Norte Ameri-
canos, nor the devil himself, can harm us when he
is by."

Whilst the Trueba sharpens his Tizona, and
the priest puffs volumes of smoke from his nose
and mouth, let us introduce to the reader one of
the muchachitas, who knelt grinding corn on the
metate, to make tortillas for the evening meal.
Juanita was a stout wench from Sonora, of Mex-
ican blood, hardly as dark as the other women who
surrounded her, and with a drop or two of the
Old Spanish blood struggling with the darker In-
dian tint to color her plump cheeks. An enagua
(a short petticoat) of red serge was confined
round her waist by a gay band ornamented with
beads, and a chemisette covered the upper part of
the body, permitting, however, a prodigal dis-
play of her charms. Whilst pounding sturdily at
the corn, she laughed and joked with her fellow-
laborers upon the anticipated American attack,
which appeared to have but few terrors for her.
" Que vengan," she exclaimed — " let them come ;

256 IN THE OLD WEST

they are only men, and will not molest us women.
Besides, I have seen these white men before, in
my own country, and they are fine fellows, very
tall, and as white as the snow on the sierras. Let
them come, say I ! "

" Only hear the girl ! " cried another : " if these
savages come, then will they kill Pedrillo, and what
will Juanita say to lose her sweetheart?"

"Pedrillo!" sneered the latter; "what care I
for Pedrillo ? Soy, Mejicana, yo — a Mexican
girl am I, I'd have you know, and don't demean me
to look at a wild Indian. Not I, indeed, by my
salvation! What I say is, let the Norte Ameri-
canos come."

At this juncture Fray Augustin called for a
glass of aguardiente, which Juanita was dis-
patched to bring, and, on presenting it, the
churchman facetiously inquired why she wished for
the Americans, adding, " Don't think they'll come
here — no, no: here we are brave men, and have
Don Antonio with us, a noble fellow, well used to
arms." As the words were on his lips, the clat-
tering of a horse's hoofs was heard rattling across
the loose stones and pebbles in the bed of the
river, and presently an Indian herder galloped up
to the door of the Mission, his horse covered with
foam, and its sides bleeding from spur-wounds.

" 0, padre mio! " he cried, as soon as he caught
sight of his reverence, " vienen los Americanos —
the Americans, the Americans are upon us. Ave

IN THE OLD WEST 257

Maria purissima! — more than ten thosuand are
at my heels ! "

Up started the priest and shouted for the Don.

That hidalgo presently appeared, armed with
the sword that had graced his thigh in so many
glorious encounters — the sword with which he
had mowed down the enemies of his country, and
by whose aid he now proposed to annihilate the
American savages, should they dare to appear
before him.

The alarm was instantly given; peones, vaque-
ros hurried from the plains/' and milpas, warned
by the deep-toned bell, wKich soon rung out its
sonorous alarum. A score of mounted Indians,
armed with gun and lasso, dashed off to bring in-
telligence of the enemy. The old gingall on the
roof was crammed with powder and bullets to the
very muzzle, by the frayle's own hand. Arms
were brought and piled in the sala, ready for use.
The padre exhorted, the women screamed, the men
grew pale and nervous, and thronged within the
walls. Don Antonio, the fiery Andaluz, alone re-
mained outside, flourishing his whetted saber, and
roaring to the padre, who stood on the roof with
lighted match, by the side of his formidable can-
non, not to be affrighted — " that he, the Trueba,
was there, with his Tizona, ready to defeat the
devil himself should he come on."

He was deaf to the entreaties of the priest to
enter.

258 IN THE OLD WEST

" Siempre en el f rente — Ever in the van," he
said, " was the war-cry of the Truebas."

But now a cloud of dust was seen approaching
from the plain, and presently a score of horsemen
dashed headlong towards the Mission. " El
enemigo! " shouted Fray Augustin ; and, without
waiting to aim, he clapped his match to the touch-
hole of the gun, harmlessly pointed to the sky, and
crying out, ** in el nombre de Dios "— in God's
name — as he did so, was instantly knocked over
and over by the recoil of the piece, then was as
instantly seized by some of the Indian garrison,
and forced through the trap-door into the build-
ing; whilst the horsemen (who were his own scouts)
galloped up with the intelligence that the enemy
was at hand, and in overwhelming force.

Thereupon the men were all mounted, and
formed in a body before the building, to the amount
of more than fifty, well armed with guns or bows
and arrows. Here the gallant Don harangued
them, and infusing into their hearts a little of his
own courage, they eagerly demanded to be led
against the enemy. Fray Augustin reappeared
on the roof, gave them his blessing, advised them
to give no quarter, and, with slight misgivings,
saw them ride off to the conflict.

About a mile from the Mission, the plain grad-
ually ascended to a ridge of moderate elevation,
on which was a growth of dwarf oak and ilex.
To this point the eyes of the remaining inmates

IN THE OLD WEST 259

of the convent were earnestly directed, as here the
enemy was first expected to make his appearance.
Presently a few figures were seen to crown the
ridge, clearly defined against the clear evening
sky. Not more than a dozen mounted men com-
posed this party, which all imagined must be
doubtless the vanguard of the thousand invaders.
On the summit of the ridge they halted a few min-
utes, as if to reconnoiter; and by this time the
California horsemen were halted in the plain, mid-
way between the Mission and the ridge, and dis-
tant from the former less than half-a-mile, so that
all the operations were clearly visible to the lookers
on.

The enemy wound slowly, in Indian file, down
the broken ground of the descent; but when the
plain was reached, they formed into something
like a line, and trotted fearlessly towards the
Californians. These began to sit uneasily in their
saddles ; nevertheless they made a forward move-
ment, and even broke into a gallop, but soon
halted, and again huddled together. Then the
mountaineers quickened their pace, and their loud
shout was heard as they dashed into the middle
of the faltering troop. The sharp cracks of the
rifles followed, and the duller reports of the smooth-
bored pieces of the Californians ; a cloud of smoke
and dust arose from the plain, and immediately
half-a-dozen horses, with empty saddles, broke
from it, followed quickly by the Californians, fly-

260 IN THE OLD WEST

ing like mad across the level. The little steady
line of the mountaineers advanced, and puffs of
smoke arose as they loaded and discharged their
rifles at the flying horsemen. As the Americans
came on, however, one was seen to totter in his sad-
dle, the rifle fell from his grasp, and he tumbled
headlong to the ground. For an instant his com-
panions surrounded the fallen man, but again
forming, dashed towards the Mission, shouting
fierce war-whoops, and brandishing aloft their
long and heavy rifles. Of the defeated Califor-
nians some jumped off their horses at the door of
the Mission, and sought shelter within ; others gal-
loped off towards the sierra in panic-stricken
plight. Before the gate, however, still paced
valiantly the proud hidalgo, encumbered with his
cloak, and waving with difficulty his sword above
his head. To the priest and women, who implored
him to enter, he replied with cries of defiance,
" Viva Carlos Quinto! " and " Death or glory ! "
He shouted in vain to the flying crowd to halt;
but, seeing their panic was beyond hope, he
clutched his weapon more firmly as the Americans
dashed at him, closed his teeth and his eyes,
thought once of the vega of his beloved Genii, and
of Granada la Florida, and gave himself up for
lost. Those inside the Mission, when they ob-
served the flight of their cavalry, gave up the de-
fense as hopeless ; and already the charging moun-
taineers were almost under the walls, when they

IN THE OLD WEST 261

observed the curious figure of the little Don mak-
ing demonstrations of hostility.

" Wagh ! " exclaimed the leading hunter (no
other than our friend La Bonte), " here's a little
critter as means to do all the fighting " ; and seiz-
ing his rifle by the barrel, he poked at the Don
with the butt-end, who parried the blow, and with
such a sturdy stroke, as nearly severed the stock
in two. Another mountaineer rode up, and,
swinging his lasso overhead, threw the noose dex-
terously over the Spaniard's head, and as it fell
over his shoulders, drew it taut, thus securing the
arms of the pugnacious Don as in a vice.

" Quartel! " cried the latter ; " por Dios, quar-
tell "

" Quarter be d ! " exclaimed one of the

whites, who understood Spanish ; " who's a-goin'
to hurt you, you little critter ? "

By this time Fray Augustin was waving a white
flag from the roof, in token of surrender ; and soon
after he appeared trembling at the door, beseech-
ing the victors to be merciful and to spare the
lives of the vanquished, when all and everything in
the Mission would be freely placed at their dis-
posal.

" What does the nigger say ? " asked old
Walker, the leader of the mountaineers, of the in-
terpreter.

66 Well, he talks so queer, this boss can't rightly
make it out."

IN THE OLD WEST

" Tell the old coon then to quit that, and make
them darned greasers clear out of the lodge, and
pock some corn and shucks here for the animals,
for they're nigh give out."

This being conveyed to him in mountain Span-
ish, which fear alone made him understand, the
padre gave orders to the men to leave the Mission,
advising them, moreover, not to recommence hos-
tilities, as himself was kept as hostage, and if a
finger was lifted against the mountaineers, he
would be killed at once, and the Mission burned to
the ground. Once inside, the hunters had no fear
of attack — they could have kept the building
against all California ; so, leaving a guard of two
outside the gate, and first seeing their worn-out
animals supplied with piles of corn and shucks,
they made themselves at home, and soon were pay-
ing attention to the hot tortillas, meat, and chile
Colorado which were quickly placed before them,
washing down the hot-spiced viands with deep
draughts of wine and brandy. It would have been
amusing to have seen the faces of these rough
fellows as they gravely pledged each other in the
grateful liquor, and looked askance at the piles
of fruit served by the attendant Hebes. These
came in for no little share of attention, it may be
imagined, but the utmost respect was paid to them ;
for your mountaineer, rough and bear-like though
he be, never by word or deed offends the modesty
of a woman, although sometimes obliged to use a

IN THE OLD WEST 263

compulsory wooing, when time is not allowed for
regular courtship, and not unfrequently is known
to jerk a New Mexican or Calif ornian beauty be-
hind his saddle, should the obdurate parents re-
fuse consent to their immediate union. It tickled
the Americans not a little to have all their wants
supplied, and to be thus waited upon, by what
they considered the houris of paradise; and after
their long journey, and the many hardships and
privations they had suffered, their present luxu-
rious situation seemed scarcely real.

The hidalgo, released from the durance vile of
the lasso, assisted at the entertainment ; his sense
of what was due to the sangre regular which ran
in his veins being appeased by the fact that he
sat above the wild uncouth mountaineers, these
preferring to squat cross-legged on the floor in
their own fashion, to the uncomfortable and novel
luxury of a chair. Killbuck, indeed, seemed to
have quite forgotten the use of such pieces of
furniture. On Fray Augustin offering him one,
and begging him, with many protestations, to be
seated, that old mountain worthy looked at it,
and then at the padre, turned it round, and at
length, comprehending the intention, essayed to
sit. This he effected at last, and sat grimly for
some moments, when, seizing the chair by the
back, he hurled it out of the open door, exclaim-
ing,— " Wagh ! this coon ain't hamshot anyhow,
and don't want such fixins, he don't ; " and gather-

264 IN THE OLD WEST

ing his legs under his body, reclined in the man-
ner customary to him. There was a prodigious
quantity of liquor consumed that night, the
hunters making up for their many banyans; but
as it was the pure juice of the grape, it had little
or no effect upon their hard heads. They had
not much to fear from attacks on the part of the
Californians ; but, to provide against all emergen-
cies, the padre and the Gachupin were " hobbled,"
and confined in an inner room, to which there was
no ingress nor egress save through the door which
opened into the apartment where the mountaineers
lay sleeping, two of the number keeping watch.
A fandango with the Indian girls had been pro-
posed by some of them, but Walker placed a de-
cided veto on this. He said " they had need of
sleep now, for there was no knowing what to-mor-
row might bring forth; that they had a long jour-
ney before them, and winter was coming on ; they
would have to streak it night and day, and sleep
when their journey was over, which would not be
until Pike's Peak was left behind them. It was
now October, and the way they'd have to hump it
back to the mountains would take the gristle off a
painter's tail."

Young Ned Wooton was not to the fore when
the roll was called. He was courting the Sonora
wench Juanita, and to some purpose, for we may
at once observe that the maiden accompanied the
mountaineer to his distant home, and at the pres-

IN THE OLD WEST 265

ent moment is sharing his lodge on Hard-scrabble
creek of the upper Arkansa, having been duly
and legally married by Fray Augustin before
their departure.

But now the snow on the ridge of the Sierra
Madre, and the nightly frosts ; the angular flights
of geese and ducks constantly passing overhead;
the sober tints of the foliage, and the dead leaves
that strew the ground ; the withering grass on the
plain, and the cold gusts, sometimes laden with
snow and sleet, that sweep from the distant snow-
clad mountains ; — all these signs warn us to
linger no longer in the tempting valley of San
Fernando, but at once to pack our mules to cross
the dreary and desert plains and inhospitable
sierras ; and to seek with our booty one of the
sheltered bayous of the Rocky Mountains.

On the third day after their arrival, behold our
mountaineers again upon the march, driving be-
fore them — with the assistance of half-a-dozen
Indians impressed for the first few days of the
journey until the cavallada get accustomed to
travel without confusion — a band of four hun-
dred head of mules and horses, themselves mounted
on the strongest and fleetest they could select from
at least a thousand.

Fray Augustin and the hidalgo, from the house-
top, watched them depart — the former glad to
get rid of such unscrupulous guests at any cost,
the latter rather loath to part with his boon com-

IN THE OLD WEST

panions, with whom he had quaffed many a quar-
tillo of Californian wine. Great was the grief,
and violent the sobbing, when all the girls in the
Mission surrounded Juanita to bid her adieu, as
she, seated en cavalier on an easy-pacing mule, be-
queathed her late companions to the keeping of
every saint in the calendar, and particularly to
the great St. Ferdinand himself, under whose espe-
cial tutelage all those in the Mission were sup-
posed to live. Pedrillo — poor forsaken Pedrillo
— a sullen sulky half-breed, was overcome, not
with grief, but with anger at the slight put upon
him, and vowed revenge. He of the sangre regiu-
lar, having not a particle of enmity in his heart,
waved his arm — that arm with which he had
mowed down the enemies of Carlos Quinto — and
requested the mountaineers, if ever fate should
carry them to Spain, not to fail to visit his quinta
in the vega of Genii, which, with all in it, he placed
at their worship's disposal — con muchissima
franqiieza.

Fat Fray Augustin likewise waved his arm, but
groaned in spirit as he beheld the noble band of
mules and horses throwing back clouds of dust on
the plain where they had been bred. One noble
roan stallion seemed averse to leave his accus-
tomed pasture, and again and again broke away
from the band. Luckily old Walker had taken
the precaution to secure the bell-mare of the herd,
and mounted on her rode ahead, the animals all

IN THE OLD WEST 267

following their well-known leader. As the roan
galloped back, the padre was in ecstasy. It was
a favorite steed, and one he would have gladly ran-
somed at any price.

" Ya viene, ya viene! " he cried out, " now, now
it's coming ! hurrah for the roan ! " but, under the
rifle of a mountaineer, one of the Calif ornians
dashed at it, a lasso whirling round his head, and
turning and twisting like a doubling hare, as the
horse tried to avoid him, at last threw the open
coil over the animal's head, and led him back in
triumph to the band.

" Maldito sea aquel India — curse that In-
dian ! " quoth the padre, and turned away.

And now our sturdy band — less two who had
gone under — were fairly on their way. They
passed the body of their comrade who had been
killed in the fight before the Mission; the wolves,
or Indian dogs, had picked it to the bones ; but a
mound near by, surmounted by a rude cross,
showed where the Calif ornians (seven of whom
were killed) had been interred — the pile of stones
at the foot of the cross testifying that many an
ave marla had already been said by the poor In-
dians, to save the souls of their slaughtered com-
panions from the pangs of purgatory.

For the first few days progress was slow and
tedious. The confusion attendant upon driving
so large a number of animals over a country with-
out trail or track of any description, was suf-

IN THE OLD WEST

ficient to prevent speedy traveling; and the moun-
taineers, desirous of improving the pace, resolved
to pursue a course more easterly, and to endeavor
to strike the great Spanish Trail, which is the
route followed by the New Mexicans in their jour-
neys to and from the towns of Puebla de los An-
geles and Santa Fe. This road, however, crosses
a long stretch of desert country, destitute alike
of grass and water, save at a few points, the
regular halting-places of the caravans ; and as
but little pasture is to be found at these places at
any time, there was great reason to fear, if the
Santa Fe traders had passed this season, that
there would not be sufficient grass to support the
numerous cavallada, after the herbage had been
laid under contribution by the traders' animals.
However, a great saving of time would be effected
by taking this trail, although it wound a consider-
able distance out of the way to avoid the impass-
able chain of the Sierra Nevada — the gap in
those mountains through which the Americans had
come being far to the northward, and at this late
season probably obstructed by the snow.

Urged by threats and bribes, one of the Indians
agreed to guide the cavallada to the trail, which
he declared was not more than five days distant.
As they advanced, the country became wilder and
more sterile, — the valleys through which several
small streams coursed alone being capable of sup-
porting so large a number of animals. No time

IN THE OLD WEST 269

was lost in hunting for game; the poorest of the
mules and horses were killed for provisions, and
the diet was improved by a little venison when a
deer casually presented itself near the camping-
ground. Of Indians they had seen not one; but
they now approached the country of the Diggers,
who infest the district through which the Spanish
trail passes, laying contributions on the caravans
of traders, and who have been, not inaptly, termed
the " Arabs of the American desert." The Cali-
fornian guide now earnestly entreated permission
to retrace his steps, saying that he should lose his
life if he attempted to pass the Digger country
alone on his return. He pointed to a snow-cov-
ered peak, at the foot of which the trail passed;
and leave being accorded, he turned his horse's
head towards the Mission of San Fernando.

Although the cavallada traveled, by this time,
with much less confusion than at first, still, from
the want of a track to follow, great trouble and
exertion were required to keep the proper direc-
tion. The bell-mare led the van carrying Walker,
who was better acquainted with the country than
the others ; another hunter of considerable distinc-
tion in the band, on a large mule, rode by his side.
Then followed the cavallada, jumping and frisk-
ing with each other, stopping whenever a blade of
grass showed, and constantly endeavoring to
break away to green patches which sometimes pre-
sented themselves in the plains. Behind the troop,

270 IN THE OLD WEST

urging them on by dint of loud cries and objurga-
tions, rode six mountaineers, keeping as much as
possible in a line. Two others were on each flank
to repress all attempts to wander, and keep the
herd in a compact body. In this order the cara-
van had been crossing a broken country, up and
down ridges, all day, the animals giving infinite
trouble to their drivers, when a loud shout from
the advanced guard put them all upon the qui-vive.
Old Walker was seen to brandish the rifle over
his head and point before him, and presently the
cry of "The trail! the trail!" gladdened all
hearts with the anticipation of a respite from the
harassing labor of mule-driving. Descending a
broken ridge, they at once struck into a distinct
and tolerably well-worn track, into which the
cavallada turned as easily and instinctively as if
they had all their lives been accustomed to travel
on beaten roads. Along this they traveled mer-
rily— their delight being, however, alloyed by
frequent indications that hunger and thirst had
done their work on the mules and horses of the
caravans which had preceded them on the trail.
They happened to strike it in the center of a long
stretch of desert, extending sixty miles without
either water or pasture; and many animals had
perished here, leaving their bones to bleach upon
the plain. The soil was sandy, but rocks and
stones covered the surface, disabling the feet of
many of the young horses and mules, several of

IN THE OLD WEST 271

which, at this early stage of the journey, were al-
ready abandoned. Traces of the wretched Dig-
gers became very frequent; these abject creatures
resorting to the sandy plains for the purpose of
feeding upon the lizards which there abound. As
yet they did not show ; only at night they prowled
around the camp, waiting a favorable opportunity
to run the animals. In the present instance, how-
ever, many of the horses having been left on the
road, the Diggers found so plentiful a supply of
meat as to render unnecessary any attack upon the
formidable mountaineers.

One evening the Americans had encamped,
earlier than usual, on a creek well timbered with
willow and quaking-ash, and affording tolerable
pasture; and although it was still rather early,
they determined to stop here, and give the animals
an opportunity to fill themselves. Several deer
had jumped out of the bottom as they entered it;
and La Bonte and Killbuck had sallied from the
camp with their rifles to hunt, and endeavor to
procure some venison for supper. Along the
river-banks herds of deer were feeding in every
direction, within shot of the belt of timber ; and the
two hunters had no difficulty in approaching and
knocking over two fine bucks within a few paces
of the thicket. They were engaged in butchering
the animals, when La Bonte, looking up from his
work, saw half-a-dozen Indians dodging among
the trees, within a few yards of himself and Kill-

IN THE OLD WEST

buck. At the same instant two arrows thudded
into the carcass of the deer over which he knelt,
passing but a few inches from his head. Halloo-
ing to his companion, La Bonte immediately seized
the deer, and, lifting it with main strength, held
it as a shield before him, but not before an arrow
had struck him in the shoulder. Rising from the
ground he retreated behind cover, yelling loudly
to alarm the camp, which was not five hundred
yards distant on the other side of the stream.
Killbuck, when apprised of the danger, ran bodily
into the plain, and, keeping out of shot of the
timber, joined La Bonte, who, now out of arrow-
shot, threw down his shield of venison and fired his
rifle at the assailants. The Indians appeared at
first afraid to leave the cover; but three or four
more joining them, one a chief, they advanced into
the plain with drawn bows, scattering wide apart,
and running swiftly towards the whites in a zig-
zag course, in order not to present a steady mark
to their unerring rifles. The latter were too cau-
tious to discharge their pieces, but kept a steady
front, with rifle at shoulder. The Indians evi-
dently disliked to approach nearer; but the chief,
an old grizzled man, incited them by word and ges-
ture — running in advance and calling upon the
others to follow him.

" Ho, boy ! " exclaimed Killbuck to his com-
panion, " that old coon must go under, or we'll
get rubbed out by these darned critters."

IN THE OLD WEST 273

La Bonte understood him. Squatting on the
ground he planted his wiping-stick firmly at the
extent of his left arm, and resting the long barrel
of his rifle on his left hand, which was supported
by the stick, he took a steady aim and fired. The
Indian, throwing out his arms, staggered and let
fall his bow — tried hard to recover himself, and
then fell forward on his face. The others, seeing
the death of their chief, turned and made again
for the cover. "You darned critters," roared
Killbuck, " take that ! " and fired his rifle at the
last one, tumbling him over as dead as a stone.
The camp had also been alarmed. Five of them
waded across the creek and took the Indians in
rear; their rifles cracked within the timber, sev-
eral more Indians fell, and the rest quickly beat a
retreat. The venison, however, was not for-
gotten ; the two deer were packed into camp, and
did the duty of mule-meat that night.

This lesson had a seasonable effect upon the
Diggers, who made no attempt on the cavallada
that night or the next, for the camp remained two
days to recruit the animals.

We will not follow the party through all the
difficulties and perils of the desert route, nor de-
tail the various devilries of the Diggers, who con-
stantly sought opportunities to stampede the ani-
mals, or, approaching them in the night as they
grazed, fired their arrows indiscriminately at the
herd, trusting that dead or disabled ones would be

274 IN THE OLD WEST

left behind, and afford them a good supply of
meat. In the month of December the mountain-
eers crossed the great dividing ridge of the Rocky
Mountains, making their way through the snowy
barrier with the utmost difficulty, and losing many
mules and horses in the attempt. On passing the
ridge, they at once struck the head-springs of the
Arkansa river, and turned into the Bayou Salade.
Here they found a village of Arapahos, and were
in no little fear of leaving their cavallada with
these dexterous horse-thieves. Fortunately the
chief in command was friendly to the whites, and
restrained his young men ; and a present of three
horses insured his good offices. Still, the near
neighborhood of these Indians being hardly desir-
able, after a few days' halt the Americans were
again on their way, and halted finally at the junc-
ture of the Fontaine-qui-bouille with the Arkansa,
where they determined to construct a winter camp.
They now considered themselves at home, and at
once set about building a log shanty capable of
containing them all, and a large corral for se-
curing the animals at night, or in case of Indian
alarms. This they effected by felling several
large cottonwoods, and throwing them in the form
of a horse-shoe: the entrance, however, being nar-
rower than in that figure, and secured by upright
logs, between which poles were fixed to be with-
drawn at pleasure. The house, or " fort " — as
anything in the shape of a house is called in these

IN THE OLD WEST 275

parts, where, indeed, every man must make his
house a castle — was loopholed on all sides, and
boasted a turf chimney of rather primitive con-
struction, but which answered the purpose of
drawing the smoke from the interior. Game was
plentiful all around; bands of buffalo were con-
stantly passing the Arkansa ; and there were al-
ways deer and antelope within sight of the fort.
The pasture, too, was good and abundant — being
the rich grama or buffalo grass, which, although
rather dry at this season, still retains its fatten-
ing qualities; and the animals soon began to im-
prove wonderfully in condition and strength.

Of the four hundred head of mules and horses
with which they had started from California, but
one-half reached the Arkansa. Many had been
killed for food (indeed, they had furnished the only
provisions during the journey), many had been
stolen by the Indians, or shot by them at night;
and many had strayed off and not been recovered.
We have omitted to mention that the Sonora girl
Juanita, and her spouse Ned Wooton, remained
behind at Roubideau's fort and rendezvous on the
Uintah, which our band had passed on the other
side of the mountains, whence they proceeded with
a party to Taos in New Mexico, and resided there
for some years, blessed with a fine family, &c., &c.,
&c., as the novels end.

As soon as the animals were fat and strong,
they were taken down the Arkansa to Bent's In-

276 IN THE OLD WEST

dian trading-fort, about sixty miles below the
mouth of Fontaine-qui-bouille. Here a ready sale
was found for them, mules being at that time in
great demand on the frontier of the United States,
and every season the Bents carried across the
plains to Independence a considerable number col-
lected in the Indian country, and in the upper set-
tlements of New Mexico. While the mountaineers
were descending the Arkansa a little incident oc-
curred, and some of the party very unexpectedly
encountered an old friend. Killbuck and La
Bonte, who were generally compaiieros, were rid-
ing some distance ahead of the cavallada, passing
at the time the mouth of the Huerfano or Orphan
Creek, when, at a long distance before them, they
saw the figure of a horseman, followed by two loose
animals, descending the bluff into the timbered
bottom of the river. Judging the stranger to be
Indian, they spurred their horses and galloped in
pursuit, but the figure ahead suddenly disap-
peared. However, they quickly followed the
track, which was plain enough in the sandy bot-
tom, that of a horse and two mules. Killbuck
scrutinized the " sign," and puzzled over it a con-
siderable time ; and at last exclaimed — " Wagh !
this sign's as plain as mon beaver to me; look at
that boss-track, boy; did ye ever see that afore? "
" Well, I have ! " answered La Bonte, peering
down at it : " that ar shuffle-toe seems handy to me
now, I tell you."

IN THE OLD WEST 277

" The man as used to ride that hoss is long gone
under, but the hoss, darn the old critter, is old
Bill Williams's, I'll swar by hook."

"Well, it ain't nothin' else," continued La
Bonte, satisfying himself by a long look ; " it's the
old boy's hoss as sure as shootin': and them
Rapahos has rubbed him out at last, and raised
his animals. Ho, boy ! let's lift their hair."

" Agreed," answered Killbuck ; and away they
started in pursuit, determined to avenge the death
of their old comrade.

They followed the track through the bottom
and into the stream, which it crossed, and passing
a few yards up the bank, entered the water again,
when they could see nothing more of it. Puzzled
at this, they sought on each side the river, but
in vain ; and, not wishing to lose more time in the
search, they proceeded through the timber on the
banks to find a good camping-place for the night,
which had been their object in riding in advance
of the cavallada. On the left bank, a short dis-
tance before them, was a heavy growth of timber,
and the river ran in one place close to a high bluff,
between which and the water was an almost im-
pervious thicket of plum and cherry trees. The
grove of timber ended before it reached this point,
and but few scattered trees grew in the little
glade which intervened, and which was covered
with tolerable grass. This being fixed upon as an
excellent camp, the two mountaineers rode into the

878 IN THE OLD WEST

glade, and dismounted close to the plum and cherry
thicket, which formed almost a wall before them,
and an excellent shelter from the wind. Jumping
off their horses, they were in the act of removing
the saddles from their backs, when a shrill neigh
burst from the thicket not two yards behind them :
a rustling in the bushes followed, and presently a
man dressed in buckskin and rifle in hand, burst
out of the tangled brush, exclaiming in an angry
voice —

" Do'ee hyar now ? I was nigh upon gut-
shootin' some of e'e — I was now ; thought e'e was
darned Rapahos, I did, and cached right off."

" Ho, Bill ! what, old hoss ! not gone under
yet? " cried both the hunters. " Give us your
paw."

" Do *ee now, if hyar arn't them boys as was
rubbed out on Lodge Pole (creek) a time ago.
Do'ee hyar? if this ain't some now, I wouldn't say
so."

Leaving old Bill Williams and our two friends
to exchange their rough but hearty greetings, we
will glance at that old worthy's history since the
time when we left him caching in the fire and
smoke on the Indian battle-ground in the Rocky
Mountains. He had escaped fire and smoke, or he
would not have been here on Arkansa with his old
grizzled Nez-perce steed. On that occasion the
veteran mountaineer had lost his two pack-animals
and all his beaver. He was not the man, however,

IN THE OLD WEST 279

to want a horse or mule as long as an Indian vil-
lage was near at hand. Skulking, therefore, by
day in canon and deep gorges of the mountains,
and traveling by night, he followed closely on the
trail of the victorious savages, bided his time,
struck his " coup," and recovered a pair of pack-
horses, which was all he required. Ever since, he
had been trapping alone in all parts of the moun-
tains; had visited the rendezvous but twice for
short periods, and then with full packs of beaver ;
and was now on his way to Bent's Fort, to dispose
of his present loads of peltry, enjoy one good
carouse on Taos whisky, and then return to some
hole or corner in the mountains which he knew of,
to follow in the spring his solitary avocation. He
too had had his share of troubles, and had many
Indian scrapes, but passed safely through all, and
scarcely cared to talk of what he had done, so mat-
ter-of-fact to him were the most extraordinary of
his perilous adventures.

Arrived at Bent's Fort, the party disposed of
their cavallada, and then, — respect for the par-
donable weaknesses of our mountain friends
prompts us to draw a veil over the furious orgies
that ensued. A number of hunters and trappers
were in from their hunting-grounds, and a village
of Shians and some lodges of Kioways were
camped round the fort. As long as the liquor
lasted — and there was good store of alcohol as
well as of Taos whisky — the Arkansa resounded

280 IN THE OLD WEST

with furious mirth, not unmixed with graver
scenes ; for your mountaineer, ever quarrelsome in
his cups, is quick to give and take offense when
rifles alone can settle the difference, and much
blood is spilt upon the prairie in his wild and fre-
quent quarrels.

Bent's Fort * is situated on the left or northern
bank of the river Arkansa, about one hundred
miles from the foot of the Rocky Mountains — on
a low and level bluff of the prairie which here
slopes gradually to the water's edge. The walls
are built entirely of adobes — or sun-burned
bricks — in the form of a hollow square, at two
corners of which are circular flanking towers of
the same material. The entrance is by a large
gateway into the square, round which are the
rooms occupied by the traders and employes of
the host. These are small in size, with walls col-
ored by a whitewash made of clay found in the
prairie. Their flat roofs are defended along the
exterior by parapets of adobe, to serve as a cover
to marksmen firing from the top; and along the
coping grow plants of cactus of all the varieties
common in the plains. In the center of the square
is the press for packing the furs; and there are
three large rooms, one used as a store and maga-
zine, another as a council-room, where the Indians

* Sometimes called Fort William, from one of the two
Bent brothers who founded it in 1829. It was destroyed
in 1852. (Ed.)

IN THE OLD WEST 281

assemble for their " talks," whilst the third is the
common dining-hall, where the traders, trappers,
and hunters, and all employes, feast upon the best
provender the game-covered country affords.
Over the culinary department presided of late
years a fair lady of color, Charlotte by name, who
was, as she loved to say, " de onlee lady in de dam
Injun country," and who, moreover, was celebrated
from Long's Peak to the Cumbres Espanolas for
slapjacks and pumpkin pies.

Here congregate at certain seasons the mer-
chants of the plains and mountains, with their
stocks of peltry. Chiefs of the Shian, the Kio-
way, and Arapaho, sit in solemn conclave with the
head traders, and smoke the calumet over their
real and imaginary grievances. Now O-cun-no-
whurst, the Yellow Wolf, grand chief of the
Shian, complains of certain grave offenses against
the dignity of his nation! A trader from the
" big lodge " (the fort) has been in his village, and
before the trade was opened, in laying the custom-
ary chief's gift " on the prairie " has not " opened
his hand," but " squeezed out his present between
his fingers," grudgingly and with too sparing
measure. This was hard to bear, but the Yellow
Wolf would say no more !

Tah-kai-buhl, or, " He Who Jumps," is deputed
from the Kioway to warn the white traders not to
proceed to the Canadian to trade with the Com-
anche. That nation is mad — a " heap mad "

IN THE OLD WEST

with the whites, and has " dug up the hatchet " to
" rub out " all who enter its country. The Kio-
waj loves the pale-face, and gives him warning
(and " He Who Jumps " looks as if he deserves
something "on the prairie" for his information).

Shawh-noh-qua-mish, " The Peeled Lodge-pole,"
is there to excuse his Arapaho braves, who lately
made free with a band of horses belonging to the
fort. He promises the like shall never happen
again, and he, Shawh-noh-qua-mish, speaks with a
" single tongue." Over clouds of tobacco and
kinnik-kinnik these grave affairs are settled and
terms arranged.

In the corral, groups of leather-clad mountain-
eers, with decks of euchre and seven up, gamble
away their hard-earned peltries. The employes
— mostly St. Louis Frenchmen and Canadian voy-
ageurs — are pressing packs of buffalo-skins, beat-
ing robes, or engaged in other duties of a trading-
fort. Indian squaws, the wives of mountaineers,
strut about in all the pride of beads and " fofar-
raw," jingling with bells and bugles, and happy as
paint can make them. Hunters drop in with ani-
mals packed with deer or buffalo meat to supply
the fort; Indian dogs look anxiously in at the
gateway, fearing to enter and encounter their
natural enemies, the whites ; and outside the fort,
at any hour of the day or night, one may safely
wager to see a dozen cayeutes or prairie wolves
loping round, or seated on their haunches, and

IN THE OLD WEST 283

looking gravely on, waiting patiently for some
chance offal to be cast outside. Against the walls,
groups of Indians too proud to enter without an
invitation, lean, wrapped in their buffalo-robes,
sulky and evidently ill at ease to be so near the
whites without a chance of fingering their scalp-
locks; their white lodges shining in the sun, at a
little distance from the riverbanks — their horses
feeding in the plain beyond.

The appearance of the fort is very striking,
standing as it does hundreds of miles from any
settlement, on the vast and lifeless prairie, sur-
rounded by hordes of hostile Indians, and far out
of reach of intercourse with civilized man; its
mud-built walls inclosing a little garrison of a
dozen hardy men, sufficient to hold in check the
numerous tribes of savages ever thirsting for their
blood. Yet the solitary stranger passing this lone
fort feels proudly secure when he comes within
sight of the Stars and Stripes which float above
the walls.

CHAPTER VIII

AGAIN we must take a jump with La Bonte
over a space of several months, when we
find him in company of half-a-dozen trap-
pers, amongst them his inseparable compaiiero
Killbuck, camped on the Greenhorn Creek, en
route to the settlements of New Mexico. They
have a few mules packed with beaver for the Taos
market ; but this expedition has been planned more
for pleasure than profit — a journey to Taos
valley being the only civilized relaxation coveted
by the mountaineers. Not a few of the present
band are bound thither with matrimonial in-
tentions ; the belles of Nuevo Mejico being to them
the ne plus ultra of female perfection, uniting most
conspicuous personal charms (although coated

with cosmetic alegrla an herb, with the juice of

which the women of Mexico hideously bedaub their
faces) with all the hard-working industry of In-
dian squaws. The ladies, on their part, do not
hesitate to leave the paternal abodes, and eternal
tortilla-making, to share the perils and privations
of the American mountaineers in the distant wil-
derness. Utterly despising their own countrymen,
whom they are used to contrast with the dashing
284

IN THE OLD WEST 285

white hunters who swagger in all the pride of
fringe and leather through their towns, they, as
is but natural, gladly accept husbands from the
latter class: preferring the stranger, who pos-
sesses the heart and strong right arm to defend
them, to the miserable cowardly " pelados," who
hold what little they have on sufferance of savage
Indians, but one degree superior to themselves.

Certainly no band of hunters that ever appeared
in the Vale of Taos numbered in its ranks a prop-
erer lot of lads than those now camped on Green-
horn, intent on matrimonial foray into the settle-
ments of New Mexico. There was young Dick
Wooton,* who was " some " for his inches, being
six feet six, and as straight and strong as the
barrel of his long rifle. Shoulder to shoulder with
this " boy " stood Rube Herring, and not a hair's-
breadth difference in height or size was there be-
tween them. Killbuck, though mountain winters
had sprinkled a few snow-flakes on his head, looked
up to neither ; and La Bonte held his own with any
mountaineer who ever set a trap in sight of Long's
Peak or the Snowy Range. Marcelline — who,
though a Mexican, despised his people and abjured
his blood, having been all his life in the mountains
with the white hunters — looked down easily upon
six feet and odd inches. In form a Hercules, he
had the symmetry of an Apollo; with strikingly
handsome features, and masses of long black hair

* Still living about 1898 in Colorado. (Ed.)

286 IN THE OLD WEST

hanging from his slouching beaver over the shoul-
ders of his buckskin hunting-shirt. He, as he was
wont to say, was " no dam Spaniard, but moun-
tainee man, wagh ! " Chabonard, a half-breed,
was not lost in the crowd ; — and, the last in
height, but the first in every quality which consti-
tutes excellence in a mountaineer, whether of in-
domitable courage or perfect indifference to death
or danger — with an iron frame capable of with-
standing hunger, thirst, heat, cold, fatigue, and
hardships of every kind — of wonderful presence
of mind and endless resources in times of peril —
with the instinct of an animal and the moral cour-
age of a man, — who was " taller " for his inches
than Kit Carson, paragon of mountaineers ? *
Small in stature, and slenderly limbed, but with
muscles of wire, with a fair complexion and quiet
intelligent features, to look at Kit none would sup-
pose that the mild-looking being before him was an
incarnate devil in Indian fight, and had raised
more hair from head of Redskins than any two
men in the western country; and yet, thirty win-
ters had scarcely planted a line or furrow on his

* Since the time of which we speak, Kit Carson has dis-
tinguished himself in guiding the several U. S. exploring ex-
peditions under Fremont across the Rocky Mountains, and
to all parts of Oregon and California; and for his services,
the President of the United States presented the gallant
mountaineer with the commission of lieutenant in a newly-
raised regiment of mounted riflemen, of which his old leader
Fr&nont is appointed colonel. (Author's note.)

IN THE OLD WEST

clean-shaven face. No name, however, was better
known in the mountains — from Yellow Stone to
Spanish Peaks, from Missouri to Columbia River
— than that of Kit Carson, raised in Boonlick,
Missouri State, and a credit to the " diggins " that
gave him birth.

On Huerfano or Orphan Creek, so called from
an isolated butte which stands on a prairie near
the stream, our party fell in with a village of Yuta
Indians, at that time hostile to the whites. Both
parties were preparing for battle, when Killbuck,
who spoke the language, went forward with signs
of peace, and after a talk with several chiefs, en-
tered into an armistice, each party agreeing not to
molest the other. After trading for a few deer-
skins, which the Yutas are celebrated for dressing
delicately fine, the trappers moved hastily on out
of such dangerous company, and camped under the
mountain on Oak Creek, where they forted in a
strong position, and constructed a corral in which
to secure their animals at night. At this point is
a tolerable pass through the mountains, where a
break occurs in a range, whence they gradually de-
crease in magnitude until they meet the sierras of
Mexico, which connect the two mighty chains of
the Andes and the Rocky Mountains. From the
summit of the dividing ridge, to the eastward, a.
view is had of the vast sea of prairie which
stretches away from the base of the mountains, in
dreary barrenness, for nearly a thousand miles, un-

288 IN THE OLD WEST

til it meets the fertile valley of the great Missouri.
Over this boundless expanse nothing breaks the
uninterrupted solitude of the view. Not a tree or
atom of foliage relieves the eye; for the lines of
scattered timber which belt the streams running
from the mountains are lost in the shadow of their
stupendous height, and beyond this nothing is
seen but the bare surface of the rolling prairie.
In no other part of the chain are the grand char-
acteristics of the Far West more strikingly dis-
played than from this pass. The mountains here
rise on the eastern side abruptly from the plain,
and the view over the great prairies is not there-
fore obstructed by intervening ridges. To the
westward the eye sweeps over the broken spurs
which stretch from the main range in every direc-
tion ; whilst distant peaks, for the most part snow-
covered, are seen at intervals rising isolated above
the range. On all sides the scene is wild and dis-
mal.

Crossing by this path, the trappers followed the
Yuta trail over a plain, skirting a pine-covered
ridge, in which countless herds of antelope, tame
as sheep, were pasturing. Numerous creeks inter-
sect it, well timbered with oak, pine, and cedar,
and well stocked with game of all kinds. On the
eleventh day from leaving the Huerfano, they
struck the Taos valley settlement on Arroyo
Hondo, and pushed on at once to the village of
Fernandez — sometimes, but improperly, called

IN THE OLD WEST 289

Taos. As the dashing band clattered through the
village, the dark eyes of the reboso-wrapped
muchachas peered from the doors of the adobe
houses, each mouth armed with cigarito, which was
at intervals removed to allow utterance to the salu-
tation to each hunter as he trotted past of Adios
Americanos, — " Welcome to Fernandez! " and then
they hurried off to prepare for the fandango,
which invariably followed the advent of the moun-
taineers. The men, however, seemed scarcely so
well pleased; but leaned sulkily against the walls,
their sarapes turned over their left shoulder, and
concealing the lower part of the face, the hand
appearing from its upper folds only to remove
the eternal cigarro from their lips. They, from
under their broad-brimmed sombreros, scowled
with little affection on the stalwart hunters, who
clattered past them, scarcely deigning to glance at
the sullen Pelados, but paying incomprehensible
compliments to the buxom wenches who smiled at
them from the doors. Thus exchanging saluta-
tions, they rode up to the house of an old moun-
taineer, who had long been settled here with a New
Mexican wife, and who was the recognized enter-
tainer of the hunters when they visited Taos
valley, receiving in exchange such peltry as they
brought with them.

No sooner was it known that Los Americanos
had arrived than nearly all the householders of
Fernandez presented themselves to offer the use of

290 IN THE OLD WEST

their salas for the fandango which invariably cele-
brated their arrival. This was always a profit-
able event ; for as the mountaineers were generally
pretty well flush of cash when on their spree, and
as open-handed as an Indian could wish, the sale
of whisky, with which they regaled all comers,
produced a handsome return to the fortunate in-
dividual whose room was selected for the fandango.
On this occasion the sala of the Alcalde Don Cor-
nelio Vegil was selected and put in order; a gen-
eral invitation was distributed; and all the dusky
beauties of Fernandez were soon engaged in ar-
raying themselves for the fete. Off came the coats
of dirt and alegria which had bedaubed their faces
since the last " function," leaving their cheeks
clear and clean. Water was profusely used, and
their cuerpos were doubtless astonished by the
unusual lavation. Their long black hair was
washed and combed, plastered behind their ears,
and plaited into a long queue, which hung down
their backs. Enaguas of gaudy color (red most
affected) were donned, fastened round the waist
with ornamented belts, and above this a snow-white
camisita of fine linen was the only covering, allow-
ing a prodigal display of their charms. Gold
and silver ornaments, of antiquated pattern, deco-
rate their ears and necks; and massive crosses of
the precious metals, wrought from the gold or sil-
ver of their own placeres, hang pendent on their
breasts. The enagua or petticoat, reaching about

IN THE OLD WEST 291

half-way between the knee and ankle, displays
their well-turned limbs, destitute of stockings, and
their tiny feet, thrust into quaint little shoes
(zapatitos) of Cinderellan dimensions. Thus
equipped, with the reboso drawn over their heads
and faces, out of the folds of which their brilliant
eyes flash like lightning, and each pretty mouth
armed with its cigarito, they coquettishly enter the
fandango.* Here, at one end of a long room, are
seated the musicians, their instruments being gen-
erally a species of guitar called heaca, a bandolin,
and an Indian drum called tombe — one of each.
Round the room groups of New Mexicans lounge,
wrapped in the eternal sarape, and smoking of
course, scowling with jealous eyes at the more fa-
vored mountaineers. These, divested of their
hunting-coats of buckskins, appear in their bran-
new shirts of gaudy calico, and close-fitting buck-
skin pantaloons, with long fringes down the out-
side seam from the hip to the ankle ; with mocca-
sins, ornamented with bright beads and porcupine-
quills. Each, round his waist, wears his mountain-
belt and scalp-knife, ominous of the company he is
in, and some have pistols sticking in their belts.

The dances — save the mark ! — are without
form or figure, at least those in which the white
hunters sport the fantastic toe. Seizing his part-

*The word fandango, in New Mexico, is not applied to
the peculiar dance known in Spain by that name, but desig-
nates a ball or dancing meeting.

IN THE OLD WEST

ner round the waist with the grip of a grisly bear,
each mountaineer whirls and twirls, jumps and
stamps ; introduces Indian steps used in the
" scalp " or " buffalo " dances, whooping occasion-
ally with unearthly cry, and then subsiding into
the jerking step, raising each foot alternately
from the ground, so much in vogue in Indian bal-
lets. The hunters have the floor all to themselves.
The Mexicans have no chance in such physical
force dancing ; and if a dancing Pelado * steps
into the ring, a lead-like thump from a gallop-
ing mountaineer quickly sends him sprawling, with
the considerate remark — " Quit, you darned
Spaniard ! you can't shine in this crowd."

During a lull, guages f filled with whisky go the
rounds — offered to and seldom refused by the
ladies, sturdily quaffed by the mountaineers, and
freely swallowed by the Pelados, who drown their
jealousy and envious hate of their entertainers in
potent aguardiente. Now, as the guages are oft
refilled and as often drained, and as night ad-
vances, so do the spirits of the mountaineers be-
come more boisterous, while their attentions to
their partners become warmer — the jealousy of
the natives waxes hotter thereat, and they begin to
show symptoms of resenting the endearments which
the mountaineers bestow upon their wives and

* A nickname for the idle fellows hanging about a Mexi-
can town, translated into "Greasers" by the Americans,
t Cask-shaped gourds.

IN THE OLD WEST £93

sweethearts. And now, when the room is filled to
crowding, — with two hundred people swearing,
drinking, dancing, and shouting — the half-dozen
Americans monopolizing the fair, to the evident
disadvantage of at least threescore scowling Pela-
dos, it happens that one of these, maddened by
whisky and the green-eyed monster, suddenly seizes
a fair one from the waist-encircling arm of a moun-
taineer, and pulls her from her partner. Wagh!
— La Bonte — it is he — stands erect as a pillar
for a moment, then raises his hand to his mouth
and gives a ringing war-whoop — jumps upon the
rash Pelado, seizes him by the body as if he were a
child, lifts him over his head, and dashes him with
the force of a giant against the wall.

The war, long threatened, has commenced ;
twenty Mexicans draw their knives and rush upon
La Bonte, who stands his ground, and sweeps them
down with his ponderous fist, one after another, as
they throng around him. " Howgh-owgh-owgh-
owgh-h ! " the well-known war-whoop, bursts from
the throats of his companions, and on they rush
to the rescue. The women scream, and block the
door in their eagerness to escape; and thus the
Mexicans are compelled to stand their ground
and fight. Knives glitter in the light, and quick
thrusts are given and parried. In the center of
the room the whites stand shoulder to shoulder,
covering the floor with Mexicans by their stalwart
blows ; but the odds are fearful against them, and

IN THE OLD WEST

other assailants crowd up to supply the place of
those who fall.

The alarm being given by the shrieking women,
reinforcements of Pelados rushed to the scene of
action, but could not enter the room, which was al-
ready full. The odds began to tell against the
mountaineers, when Kit Carson's quick eye caught
sight of a high stool or stone, supported by three
long heavy legs. In a moment he had cleared his
way to this, and in another the three legs were
broken off and in the hands of himself, Dick
Wooton, and La Bonte. Sweeping them round
their heads, down came the heavy weapons amongst
the Mexicans with wonderful effect. At this the
mountaineers gave a hearty whoop, and charged
the wavering enemy with such resistless vigor, that
they gave way and bolted through the door, leav-
ing the floor strewed with wounded, many most
dangerously; for, as may be imagined, a thrust
from the keen scalp-knife by the nervous arm of a
mountaineer was no baby blow, and seldom failed
to strike home — up to the " Green River " * on
the blade.

The field being won, the whites, too, beat a quick
retreat to the house where they were domiciled, and
where they had left their rifles. Without their

* The knives used by the hunters and trappers are manu-
factured at the " Green River " works, and have that name
stamped upon the blade. Hence the mountain term for
doing anything effectual is "up to Green River."

IN THE OLD WEST £95

trusty weapons they felt, indeed, unarmed; and
not knowing how the affair just over would be fol-
lowed up, lost no time in making preparations for
defense. However, after great blustering on the
part of the prefecto, who, accompanied by a
posse comitatus of " Greasers," proceeded to the
house, and demanded the surrender of all concerned
in the aff air — which proposition was received with
a yell of derision — the business was compounded
by the mountaineers promising to give sundry dol-
lars to the friends of two of the Mexicans who died
during the night of their wounds, and to pay for a
certain amount of masses to be sung for the repose
of their souls in purgatory. Thus the affair blew
over; but for several days the mountaineers never
showed themselves in the streets of Fernandez with-
out their rifles on their shoulders, and refrained
from attending fandangos for the present, and un-
til the excitement had cooled down.

A bitter feeling, however, existed on the part of
the men; and one or two offers of a matrimonial
nature were rejected by the papas of certain ladies
who had been wooed by some of the white hunters,
and their hands formally demanded from their re-
spective padres.

La Bonte had been rather smitten with the
charms of one Dolores Salazar — a buxom lass,
more than three parts Indian in her blood, but con-
fessedly the beauty of the Vale of Taos. She, by

296 IN THE OLD WEST

dint of eye, and of nameless acts of elaborate co-
quetry, with which the sex so universally bait their
traps, whether in the salons of Belgravia or the
rancherias of New Mexico, contrived to make con-
siderable havoc in the heart of our mountaineer;
and when once Dolores saw she had made an im-
pression, she followed up her advantage with all
the arts the most civilized of her sex could use when
fishing for a husband.

La Bonte, however, was too old a hunter to be
easily caught; and before committing himself, he
sought the advice of his tried companion, Killbuck.
Taking him to a retired spot without the village,
he drew out his pipe and charged it — seated him-
self cross-legged on the ground, and with Indian
gravity, composed himself for a " talk."

" Ho, Killbuck ! " he began, touching the ground
with the bowl of his pipe, and then turning the
stem upwards for medicine — " Hya'r's a child feels
squamptious-like, and, nigh upon gone beaver, he
is — Wagh!"

" Wagh ! " exclaimed Killbuck, all attention.

" Old hoss," continued the other, " thar's no use
caching anyhow what a nigger feels — so hyar's
to put out. You're good for beaver / know; at
deer or buffler, or darned Red Injun either, you're
some. Now that's a fact. Off-hand, or with a
rest, you make 'em come. You knows the sign of
Injuns slick — Blackfoot or Sioux, Pawnee or
Burntwood, Teton, Rapaho, Shian, or Shoshonee,

IN THE OLD WEST 297

Yutah, Piyutah, or Yamhareek — their trail's as
plain as writin', old hoss, to you."

" Wagh ! " grunted Killbuck, blushing bronze at
all these compliments.

" Your sight ain't bad. Elks is elk ; black-tailed
deer ain't white-tails ; and b'ar is b'ar to you, and
nothin' else, a long mile off and more."

"Wa-agh!"

" Thar ain't a track as leaves its mark upon the
plains or mountains but you can read off-hand;
that I've see'd myself. But tell me, old hoss, can
you make understand the sign as shows itself in a
woman's breast? "

Killbuck removed the pipe from his mouth, raised
his head, and puffed a rolling cloud of smoke into
the air, — knocked the ashes from the bowl, like-
wise made his medicine — and answered thus : —

" From Red River, away up north among the
Britishers, to Heely (Gila) in the Spanish country
— from old Missoura to the Sea of Californy, I've
trapped and hunted. I knows the Injuns and
thar sign, and they knows me, I'm thinkin'. Thirty
winters has snowed on me in these hyar mountains,
and a nigger or a Spaniard * would larn some in
that time. This old tool " (tapping his rifle)
" shoots center, she does ; and if thar's game afoot,
this child knows bull from cow, and ought to could.
That deer is deer, and goats is goats, is plain as

* Always alluding to Mexicans, who are invariably called
Spaniards by the Western Americans.

298 IN THE OLD WEST

paint to any but a greenhorn. Beaver's a cunning
critter, but I've trapped a heap; and at killing
meat when meat's a-running, I'll shine in the big-
gest kind of crowd. For twenty year I packed a
squaw along. Not one, but a many. First I had
a Blackf oot — the darndest slut as ever cried for
fofarraw. I lodge-poled her on Colter's Creek,
and made her quit. My buffler hoss, and as good
as four packs of beaver, I gave for old Bull-tail's
daughter. He was head chief of the Ricaree, and
came nicely round me. Thar wasn't enough scar-
let cloth, nor beads, nor vermilion in Sublette's
packs for her. Traps wouldn't buy her all the fo-
farraw she wanted; and in two years I'd sold her
to Cross-Eagle for one of Jake Hawken's guns —
this very one I hold in my hands. Then I tried
the Sioux, the Shian, and a Digger from the other
side, who made the best moccasin as ever I wore.
She was the best of all, and was rubbed out by the
Yutas in the Bayou Salade. Bad was the best;
and after she was gone under I tried no more.

" Afore I left the settlements I know'd a white
gal, and she was some punkins. I have never see'd
nothing as 'ould beat her. Red blood won't shine
any ways you fix it ; and though I'm h — for sign,
a woman's breast is the hardest kind of rock to
me, and leaves no trail that I can see of. I've
hearn you talk of a gal in Memphis County;
Mary Brand you called her oncest. The gal I
said / know'd, her name I disremember, but she

IN THE OLD WEST 299

stands before me as plain as Chimley Rock on
Platte, and thirty year and more harn't changed a
feature in her face, to me.

" If you ask this child, he'll tell you to leave
the Spanish slut to her Greasers, and hold on till
you take the trail to old Missoura, whar white and
Christian gals are to be had for axing. Wagh ! "

La Bonte rose to his feet. The mention of
Mary Brand's name decided him; and he said —

" Darn the Spaniard ! she can't shine with me.
Come, old hoss ! let's move."

And shouldering their rifles, the two companeros
returned to the Ranch. More than one of the
mountaineers had fulfilled the object of their jour-
ney, and had taken to themselves a partner from
amongst the belles of Taos, and now they were pre-
paring for their return to the mountains. Dick
Wooton was the only unfortunate one. He had
wooed a damsel whose parents peremptorily for-
bade their daughter to wed the hunter, and he
therefore made ready for his departure with con-
siderable regret.

The day came, however. The band of moun-
taineers were already mounted, and those with
wives in charge were some hours on the road, leav-
ing the remainder quaffing many a stirrup-cup be-»
fore they left. Dick Wooton was as melancholy
as a buffalo bull in spring; and as he rode down
the village, and approached the house of his lady-
love, who stood wrapped in reboso, and cigarito in

300 IN THE OLD WEST

mouth, on the sill of the door, he turned away his
head as if dreading to say adios. La Bonte rode
beside him, and a thought struck him.

"Ho, Dick!" he said, " thar's the gal, and
thar's the mountains : shoot sharp's the word."

Dick instantly understood him, and was " him-
self again." He rode up to the girl as if to bid
her adieu, and she came to meet him. Whispering
one word, she put her foot upon his, was instantly
seized round the waist, and placed upon the horn
of his saddle. He struck spurs into his horse, and
in a minute was out of sight ; his three companions
covering his retreat, and menacing with their
rifles the crowd which was soon drawn to the spot
by the cries of the girl's parents, who had been
astonished spectators of the daring rape.

The trapper and his bride, however, escaped
scatheless, and the whole party effected a safe
passage of the mountains, and reached the Ark-
ansa, where the band was broken up, — some pro-
ceeding to Bent's Fort, and others to the Platte,
amongst whom were Killbuck and La Bonte, still
in company.

These two once more betook themselves to trap-
ping, the Yellow Stone being their chief hunting-
ground. But we must again leap over months and
years, rather than conduct the reader through all
their perilous wanderings, and at last bring him
back to the camp on Bijou, where we first intro-
duced him to our mountaineers ; and as we have al-

IN THE OLD WEST 301

ready followed them on the Arapaho trail, which
they pursued to recover their stolen animals from
a band of that nation, we will once again seat our-
selves at the camp on Boiling Spring, where they
had met a strange hunter on a solitary expedition
to the Bayou Salade, whose double-barreled rifle
had excited their wonder and curiosity.

From him they learned also that a large band
of Mormons were wintering on the Arkansa, en
route to the Great Salt Lake and Upper Califor-
nia; and as our hunters had before fallen in with
the advanced-guard of these fanatic emigrants, and
felt no little wonder that such helpless people
should undertake so long a journey through the
wilderness, the stranger narrated to them the his-
tory of the sect, which we shall shortly transcribe
for the benefit of the reader.

CHAPTER IX

THE Mormons were originally of the sect
known as Latter-day Saints, which flour-
ishes wherever Anglo-Saxon gulls are found
in sufficient numbers to swallow the egregious
nonsense of fanatic humbugs who fatten upon their
credulity. In the United States they especially
abounded ; but the creed becoming " slow," one
Joe Smith, a smart man, rose from its ranks and
instilled a little life into the decaying sect.

Joe, better known as the " Prophet Joe," was
taking his siesta one fine day upon a hill in New
York State, when an angel suddenly appeared to
him, and made known the locality of a new Bible
or Testament, which contained the history of the
lost tribes of Israel; that these tribes were no
other than the Indian nations which possessed the
continent of America at the time of its discovery,
and the remains of which still existed in their sav-
age state; that through the agency of Joe these
were to be reclaimed, collected into the bosom of a
church to be there established, according to prin-
ciples which would be found in the wonderful book
— and which church was gradually to receive into

its bosom all other churches, sects, and persuasions,
302

IN THE OLD WEST

with " unanimity of belief and perfect brother-
hood."

After a certain probation, Joe was led in body
and spirit to the mountain by the angel who first
appeared to him ; was pointed out the position of
the wonderful book, which was covered by a flat
stone, on which would be found a pair of magic
spectacles, called Urim and Thummim, and
through the agency of which the mystic charac-
ters inscribed on the pages of the book were to be
deciphered and translated. Joe found the spot in-
dicated without any difficulty, cleared away the
earth, and discovered a hollow place formed by
four flat stones, on removing the topmost one of
which sundry plates of brass presented themselves,
covered with quaint and antique carving; on the
top lay Urim and Thummim (commonly known to
the Mormons as Mummum and Thummum, the
spectacles of wonderful virtue), through which the
miracle of reading the plates of brass was to be
performed.

Joe Smith, on whom the mantle of Moses had so
suddenly fallen, carefully removed the plates and
hid them, burying himself in woods and mountains
whilst engaged in the work of translation. How-
ever, he made no secret of the important task im-
posed upon him, nor of the great work to which he
had been called. Numbers at once believed him,
but not a few were deaf to belief, and openly de-
rided him. Being persecuted (as the sect declares,

304 IN THE OLD WEST

at the instigation of the authorities), and many
attempts being made to steal his precious treasure,
Joe one fine night packed his plates in a sack of
beans, bundled them into a Jersey wagon, and
made tracks for the West. Here he completed the
great work of translation, and not long after gave
to the world the " Book of Mormon," a work as
bulky as the Bible, and called " of Mormon," for
so was the prophet named by whose hand the his-
tory of the lost tribes had been handed down in
the plates of brass thus miraculously preserved for
thousands of years, and brought to light through
the agency of Joseph Smith.

The fame of the Book of Mormon spread over all
America, and even to Great Britain and Ireland.
Hundreds of proselytes flocked to Joe, to hear from
his lips the doctrine of Mormonism ; and in a very
brief period the Mormons became a numerous and
recognized sect, and Joe was at once, and by uni-
versal acclamation, installed as the head of the
Mormon Church, and was ever after known by the
name of the " Prophet Joseph."

However, from certain peculiarities in their so-
cial system, the Mormons became rather unpopular
in the settled States, and at length moved bodily
into Missouri, where they purchased several tracts
of land in the neighborhood of Independence.
Here they erected a large building, which they
called the Lord's Store, where goods were collected
on the common account, and retailed to members

IN THE OLD WEST 305

of the Church at moderate prices. All this time
their numbers increased in a wonderful manner,
and immigrants from all parts of the States, as
well as Europe, continually joined them. As they
became stronger, they grew bolder and more arro-
gant in their projects. They had hitherto been
considered as bad neighbors, on account of their
pilfering propensities, and their utter disregard of
the conventional decencies of society — exhibiting
the greatest immorality, and endeavoring to estab-
lish amongst their society an indiscriminate con-
cubinage. This was sufficient to produce an ill
feeling against them on the part of their neighbors,
the honest Missourians; but they still tolerated
their presence amongst them, until the Saints
openly proclaimed their intention of seizing upon
the country, and expelling by force the present oc-
cupants — giving, as their reason, that it had
been revealed to their prophets that the " Land of
Zion " was to be possessed by themselves alone.
The sturdy Missourians began to think this was
a little too strong, and that, if they permitted such
aggressions any longer, they would be in a fair
way of being despoiled of their lands by the Mor-
mon interlopers. At length matters came to a
crisis, and the Saints, emboldened by the impunity
with which they had hitherto carried out their
plans, issued a proclamation, to the effect that all
in that part of the country who did not belong
to the Mormon persuasion must " clear out," and

306 IN THE OLD WEST

give up possession of their lands and houses. The
Missourians collected in a body, burned the print-
ing-press from which the proclamation had ema-
nated, seized several of the Mormon leaders, and,
after inflicting a summary chastisement, tarred
and feathered them, and let them go.

To revenge this insult, the Mormons marshaled
an army of Saints, and marched upon Independ-
ence, threatening vengeance against the town and
people. Here they met, however, a band of sturdy
backwoodsmen, armed with rifles, determined to de-
fend the town against the fanatic mob, who, not
relishing their appearance, refused the encounter,
and surrendered their leaders at the first demand.
The prisoners were afterwards released, on con-
dition that the Mormons left that part of the coun-
try without delay.

Accordingly they once more " took up their
beds and walked," crossing the Missouri to Clay
County, where they established themselves, and
would finally have formed a thriving settlement
but for their own acts of willful dishonesty. At
this time their blasphemous mummery knew no
bounds. Joe Smith, and other prophets who had
lately arisen, were declared to be chosen of God;
and it was the general creed that, on the day of
judgment, the former would take his stand on the
right hand of the judgment-seat, and that none
would pass into the kingdom of heaven without his
seal and touch. One of their tenets was the faith

IN THE OLD WEST 307

in " spiritual matrimony." No woman, it ap-
peared, would be admitted into heaven unless
" passed " by a saint. To qualify them for this,
it was necessary that the woman should first be
received by the guaranteeing Mormon as an
" earthly wife," in order that he did not pass in
any of whom he had no knowledge. The conse-
quence of this state of things may be imagined.
The most debasing immorality was a precept of
the order, and an almost universal concubinage
existed amongst the sect, which at this time num-
bered at least forty thousand. Their disregard
to the laws of decency and morality was such as
could not be tolerated in any class of civilized
society.

Again did the honest Missourians set their faces
against this pernicious example, and when the
county to which the Mormons had removed be-
came more thickly settled, they rose to a man
against the modern Gomorrah. The Mormons,
by this time, having on their part gained con-
siderable accession to their strength, thought to
set the laws at defiance, organized and armed large
bodies of men, in order to maintain the ascendency
over the legitimate settlers, and bid fair to con-
stitute an imperium in imperio in the State, and
become the sole possessors of the public lands.
This, of course, could not be tolerated. Gover-
nor Boggs at once ordered out a large force of
State militia to put down this formidable demon-

508 IN THE OLD WEST

stration, marched against the Mormons, and sup-
pressed the insurrectionary movement without
bloodshed.

From Clay County they moved still farther into
the wilds, and settled at last in Caldwell County,
where they built the town of Far West, and here
they remained for the space of three years.

During this time they were continually receiv-
ing converts to the faith, and many of the more
ignorant country people were disposed to join
them, being only deterred by the fear of incurring
ridicule from the stronger-minded. The body of
the Mormons seeing this, called upon their
prophet, Joe Smith, to perform a miracle in pub-
lic before all comers, which was to prove to those
of their own people who still doubted the doctrine,
the truth of what it advanced (the power of per-
forming miracles was steadfastly declared to be
in their hands by the prophets), and to enlist
those who wavered in the Mormon cause.

The prophet instantly agreed, and declared that,
upon a certain day he would walk across the broad
waters of the Missouri without wetting the soles
of his feet. On the appointed day the river-banks
were thronged by an expectant crowd. The Mor-
mons sang hymns of praise in honor of their
prophet, and were proud of the forthcoming mir-
acle, which was to set finally at rest all doubt
as to his power and sanctity.

This power of performing miracles and effect-

IN THE OLD WEST 309

ing miraculous cures of the sick, was so generally
believed by the Mormons, that physic was never
used amongst them. The prophets visited the
beds of the sick, and laid hands upon them, and
if, as of course was almost invariably the case,
the patient died, it was attributed to his or her
want of faith ; but if, on the contrary, the patient
recovered, there was universal glorification on the
miraculous cure.

Joe Smith was a tall fine-looking man, of most
plausible address, and possessed the gift of the
gab in great perfection. At the time appointed
for the performance of the walking-water miracle,
he duly attended on the river's bank, and descended
barefoot to the edge of the water.

" My brethren ! " he exclaimed, in a loud voice,
" this day is a happy one to me, to us all, who
venerate the great and only faith. The truth of
our great and blessed doctrine will now be proved
before the thousands I see around me. You have
asked me to prove by a miracle that the power of
the prophets of old has been given to me. I say
unto you, not only to me, but to all who have
faith. I have faith, and can perform miracles —
that faith empowers me to walk across the broad
surface of that mighty river without wetting the
soles of my unworthy feet ; but if ye are to see
this miracle performed, it is necessary that ye
have faith also, not only in yourselves, but in me.
Have ye this faith in yourselves ? "

310 IN THE OLD WEST

" We have, we have ! " roared the crowd.

" Have ye the faith in me, that ye believe I
can perform this miracle? "

" We have, we have ! " roared the crowd.

" Then," said Joe Smith, coolly walking away,
" with such faith do ye know well that I could,
but it boots not that I should, do it; therefore,
my brethren, doubt no more " — and Joe put on
his boots and disappeared.

Being again compelled to emigrate, the Mor-
mons proceeded into the state of Illinois, where,
in a beautiful situation, they founded the new
Jerusalem, which, it had been declared by the
prophet Mormon, should rise out of the wilder-
ness of the west, and where the chosen people
should be collected under one church, and gov-
erned by the elders after a " spiritual fashion."

The city of Nauvoo soon became a large and
imposing settlement. An enormous building,
called the Temple of Zion, was erected, half church,
half hotel, in which Joe Smith and the other
prophets resided — and large store-houses were
connected with it, in which the goods and chattels
belonging to the community were kept for the com-
mon good.

However, here, as everywhere else, they were
continually quarreling with their neighbors; and
as their numbers increased, so did their audacity.
A regular Mormon militia was again organized
and armed, under the command of experienced of-

IN THE OLD WEST 311

ficers who had joined the sect ; and now the author-
ity of the state government was openly defied.
In consequence, the executive took measures to
put down the nuisance, and a regular war com-
menced, and was carried on for some time, with
no little bloodshed on both sides ; and this armed
movement is known in the United States as the
Mormon war. The Mormons, however, who, it
seemed, were much better skilled in the use of the
tongue than the rifle, succumbed: the city of
Nauvoo was taken, Joe Smith and other ring-
leading prophets captured ; and the former, in an
attempt to escape from his place of confinement,
was seized and shot. The Mormons declare he
had long foretold his own fate ; and that when the
rifles of the firing party who were his executioners
were leveled at the prophet's breast, a flash of
lightning struck the weapons from their hands,
and blinded for a time the eyes of the sacrilegious
soldiers.

With the death of Joe Smith the prestige of the
Mormon cause declined; but still thousands of
proselytes joined them annually, and at last the
state took measures to remove them altogether,
as a body, from the country.

Once again they fled, as they themselves term
it, before the persecutions of the ungodly! But
this time their migration was far beyond the reach
of their enemies, and their intention was to place
between them the impassable barrier of the Rocky

IN THE OLD WEST

Mountains, and to seek a home and resting-place
in the remote regions of the Far West.

This, the most extraordinary migration of mod-
ern times commenced in the year 1845 ; but it was
not till the following year that the great body of
the Mormons turned their backs upon the settle-
ments of the United States, and launched boldly
out into the vast and barren prairies, without any
fixed destination as a goal to their endless journey.
For many months long strings of Pittsburgh and
Conestoga wagons, with herds of horses and do-
mestic cattle, wound their way towards the Indian
frontier, with the intention of rendezvousing at
Council Bluffs on the Upper Missouri. Here
thousands of wagons were congregated, with their
tens of thousands of men, women, and children,
anxiously waiting the route from the elders of the
Church, who on their parts scarcely knew whither
to direct the steps of the vast crowd they had set
in motion. At length the indefinite destination of
Oregon and California was proclaimed, and the
long train of emigrants took up the line of march.
It was believed the Indian tribes would immedi-
ately fraternize with the Mormons on their ap-
proaching their country; but the Pawnees quickly
undeceived them by running off with their stock
on every opportunity. Besides these losses, at
every camp, horses, sheep, and oxen strayed away
and were not recovered, and numbers died from
fatigue and want of provender; so that, before

IN THE OLD WEST 313

they had been many weeks on their journey, nearly
all their cattle, which they had brought to stock
their new country, were dead or missing, and those
that were left were in most miserable condition.

They had started so late in the season that the
greater part were compelled to winter on the
Platte, on Grand Island, and in the vicinity, where
they endured the greatest privations and suffer-
ing from cold and hunger. Many who had lost
their stock lived upon roots and pig-nuts ; and
scurvy, in a most malignant form, and other dis-
orders, carried off numbers of the wretched
fanatics.

Amongst them were many substantial farmers
from all parts of the United States, who had given
up their valuable farms, sold off all their property,
and were dragging their irresponsible and unfor-
tunate families into the wilderness — carried away
by their blind and fanatic zeal in this absurd and
incredible faith. There were also many poor
wretches from different parts of England, mostly
of the farm-laboring class, with wives and families,
crawling along with helpless and almost idiotic
despair, but urged forward by the fanatic leaders
of the movement, who promised them a land flow-
ing with milk and honey to reward them for all
their hardships and privations.

Their numbers were soon reduced by want and
disease. When too late, they often wished them-
selves back in the old country, and sighed many a

IN THE OLD WEST

time for the beer and bacon of former days, now
preferable to the dry buffalo-meat (but seldom
obtainable) of the Far West.

Evil fortune pursued the Mormons, and dogged
their steps. The year following, some struggled
on towards the promised land, and of these a few
reached Oregon and California. Many were
killed by hostile Indians; many perished of hun-
ger, cold, and thirst, in passing the great wilder-
ness ; and many returned to the States, penniless
and crestfallen, and heartily cursing the moment
in which they had listened to the counsels of the
Mormon prophet. The numbers who reached
their destination of Oregon, California, and the
Great Salt Lake, are computed at 20,000, of
whom the United States had an unregretted rid-
dance.

One party had followed the troops of the Ameri-
can Government intended for the conquest of New
Mexico and the Californias. Of these a battalion
was formed, and part of it proceeded to Upper
California; but the way being impracticable for
wagons, some seventy families proceeded up the
Arkansa, and wintered near the mountains, in-
tending to cross to the Platte the ensuing spring,
and join the main body of emigrants on their way
by the South Pass of the Rocky Mountains.

In the wide and well-timbered bottom of the
Arkansa, the Mormons had erected a street of
log shanties in which to pass the inclement winter.

IN THE OLD WEST 315

These were built of rough logs of cottonwood
laid one above the other, the interstices filled with
mud, and rendered impervious to wind or wet.
At one end of the row of shanties was built the
church or " temple " — a long building of huge
logs, in which the prayer-meetings and holdings-
forth took place. The band wintering on the
Arkansa were a far better class than the generality
of Mormons, and comprised many wealthy and
respectable farmers from the western states, most
of whom were accustomed to the life of woodmen,
and were good hunters. Thus they were enabled
to support their families upon the produce of their
rifles, frequently sallying out to the nearest point
of the mountains with a wagon, which they would
bring back loaded with buffalo, deer, and elk
meat, thereby saving the necessity of killing any
of their stock of cattle, of which but few remained.
The mountain hunters found this camp a profit-
able market for their meat and deer-skins, with
which the Mormons were now compelled to clothe
themselves, and resorted there for that purpose —
to say nothing of the attraction of the many
really beautiful Missourian girls who sported
their tall graceful figures at the frequent fan-
dangos. Dancing and preaching go hand in hand
in Mormon doctrine, and the temple was gener-
ally cleared for a hop two or three times during
the week, a couple of fiddles doing the duty of
orchestra. A party of mountaineers came in one

316 IN THE OLD WEST

day, bringing some buffalo-meat and dressed deer-
skins, and were invited to be present at one of
these festivals.

Arrived at the temple, they were rather taken
aback by finding themselves in for a sermon, which
one of the elders delivered preparatory to the
" physical exercises." The preacher was one
Brown — called, by reason of his commanding a
company of Mormon volunteers, " Cap'n Brown "

— a hard-featured, black-coated man of five-and-
forty, correctly got up in black continuations, and
white handkerchief round his neck, — a costume
seldom seen at the foot of the Rocky Mountains.
The Cap'n, rising, cleared his voice, and thus
commenced, first turning to an elder (with whom
there was a little rivalry in the way of preach-
ing) : " Brother Dowdle " (brother Dowdle blushed
and nodded, he was a long tallow-faced man, with
black hair combed over his face), " I feel like
holding forth a little this afternoon, before we
glorify the Lord, — a — a — in the — a — holy
dance. As there are a many strange gentlemen
now — a — present, it's about right to tell 'em

— a — what our doctrine just is; and so I tells
'em right off what the Mormons is. They are
the chosen of the Lord; they are the children of
glory, persecuted by the hand of man: they flies
here to the wilderness, and, amongst the Injine
and the buffler, they lifts up their heads, and
cries with a loud voice, * Susannah, and hurray for

IN THE OLD WEST 317

the promised land ! ' Do you believe it ? I know
it.

" They wants to know whar we're going.
Whar the church goes — thar we goes. Yes, to
hell, and pull the devil off his throne — that's
what we'll do. Do you believe it? I know it.

" Thar's milk and honey in that land as we're
goin' to, and the lost tribes of Israel is thar, and
will jine us. They say as we'll starve on the road,
bekase thar's no game and no water; but thar's
manna up in heaven, and it'll rain on us, and
thar's prophets among us can make the water
'come.' Can't they, brother Dowdle? "

" Well, they can."

" And now, what have the Gentiles and the
Philistines to say against us Mormons? They

says we're thieves, and steal hogs ; yes, d

'em ! they say we has as many wives as we like.
So we have. I've twenty — forty, myself, and
mean to have as many more as I can get. But
it's to pass unfortunate females into heaven that
I has 'em — yes, to prevent 'em going to roaring
flames and damnation that I does it.

" Brother Dowdle," he continued, in a hoarse,
low voice, " I've ' give out,' and think we'd better
begin the exercises grettful to the Lord."

Brother Dowdle rose, and, after saying that
" he didn't feel like saying much," begged to re-
mind all hands that dancing was " solemn like, to
be done with proper devotion, and not with laugh-

SI 8 IN THE OLD WEST

ing and talking, of which he hoped to hear little
or none; that joy was to be in their hearts, and
not on their lips; that they danced for the glory
of the Lord, and not their own amusement, as
did the Gentiles" After saying thus, he called
upon brother Ezra to " strike up " : sundry
couples stood forth, and the ball commenced.

Ezra of the violin was a tall shambling Mis-
sourian, with a pair of homespun pantaloons
thrust into the legs of his heavy boots. Nodding
his head in time with the music, he occasionally
gave instructions to such of the dancers as were
at fault, singing them to the tune he was playing,
in a dismal nasal tone, —

" Down the center — hands across,
You Jake Herring — thump it,
Now, you all go right ahead —
Every one of you hump it.

Every one of you — hump it."

The last words being the signal that all should
clap the steam on, which they did con amore, and
with comical seriousness.

A mountaineer, Rube Herring, whom we have
more than once met in the course of this narra-
tive, became a convert to the Mormon creed, and
held forth its wonderful doctrines to such of the
incredulous trappers as he could induce to listen
to him. Old Rube stood nearly six feet six in
height, and was spare and bony in make. He

IN THE OLD WEST 319

had picked up a most extraordinary cloth coat
amongst the Mormons, which had belonged to
some one his equal in stature. This coat, which
was of a snuff-brown color, had its waist about
a hand's span from the nape of Rube's neck, or
about a yard above its proper position, and the
skirts reached to his ankles. A slouching felt-
hat covered his head, from which long black hair
escaped, hanging in flakes over his lantern jaws.
His pantaloons of buckskin were shrunk with wet,
and reached midway between his knees and ankles,
and his huge feet were incased in moccasins of
buffalo-cow skin.

Rube was never without the book of Mormon
in his hand, and his sonorous voice might be heard,
at all hours of the day and night, reading pas-
sages from its wonderful pages. He stood the
badgering of the hunters with most perfect good-
humor, and said there never was such a book as
that ever before printed; that the Mormons were
the " biggest kind " of prophets, and theirs the
best faith ever man believed in.

Rube had let out one day that he was to be
hired as guide by this party of Mormons to the
Great Salt Lake; but their destination being
changed, and his services not required, a wonder-
ful change came over his mind. He was, as usual,
book of Mormon in hand, when brother Brown
announced the change in their plans; at which
the book was cast into the Arkansa, and Rube

IN THE OLD WEST

exclaimed — " Cuss your darned Mummum and
Thummum! thar's not one among you knows fat

cow from poor bull, and you may go to h

for me." And turning away, old Rube spat out
a quid of tobacco and his Mormonism together.

Amongst the Mormons was an old man named
Brand, from Memphis County, State of Tennessee,
with a family of a daughter and two sons, the lat-
ter with their wives and children. Brand was a
wiry old fellow, nearly seventy years of age, but
still stout and strong, and wielded ax or rifle
better than many a younger man. If truth be
told, he was not a very red-hot Mormon, and had
joined them as much for the sake of company to
California, whither he had long resolved to emi-
grate, as from any implicit credence in the faith.
His sons were strapping fellows, of the sterling
stuff that the Western pioneers are made of; his
daughter Mary, a fine woman of thirty, for whose
state of single blessedness there must doubtless
have been sufficient reason ; for she was not only
remarkably handsome, but was well known in
Memphis to be the best-tempered and most in-
dustrious young woman in those diggings. She
was known to have received several advantageous
offers, all of which she had refused; and report
said that it was from having been disappointed in
very early life in an affaire du caeur, at an age
when such wounds sometimes strike strong and
deep, leaving a scar difficult to heal. Neither his

IN THE OLD WEST

daughter nor any of his family had been con-
verted to the Mormon doctrine, but had ever kept
themselves aloof, and refused to join or associate
with them ; and, for this reason, the family had been
very unpopular with the Mormon families on the
Arkansa; and hence, probably, one great reason
why they now started alone on their journey.

Spring had arrived, and it was time the Mor-
mons should proceed on their march ; but whether
already tired of the sample they had had of life
in the wilderness, or fearful of encountering the
prerils of the Indian country, not one amongst
them, with the exception of old Brand, seemed in-
clined to pursue the journey farther. That old
backwoodsman, however, was not to be deterred,
but declared his intention of setting out alone,
with his family, and risking all the dangers to be
anticipated.

One fine sunny evening in April of 1847, when
the cottonwoods on the banks of the Arkansa be-
gan to put forth their buds, and robins and blue-
birds — harbingers of spring — were hopping
with gaudy plumage through the thickets, three
white-tilted Conestoga wagons emerged from the
timbered bottom of the river, and rumbled slowly
over the prairie, in the direction of the Platte's
waters. Each wagon was drawn by eight oxen,
and contained a portion of the farming imple-
ments and household utensils of the Brand family.
The teams were driven by the young boys, the

IN THE OLD WEST

men following in rear with ^Iiouldered rifles —
old Brand himself, mounted on an Indian horse,
leading the advance. The women were safely
housed under the shelter of the wagon-tilts, and
out of the first the mild face of Mary Brand
smiled adieu to many of her old companions who
had accompanied them thus far, and now wished
them " God-speed " on their long journey. Some
mountaineers, too, galloped up dressed in buck-
skin, and gave them rough greeting — warning
the men to keep their " eyes skinned," and look
out for the Arapahos, who were out on the
waters of the Platte. Presently all retired, and
then the huge wagons and the little company were
rolling on their solitary way through the deserted
prairies — passing the first of the many thousand
miles which lay between them and the " setting
sun," as the Indians style the distant regions of
the Far West. And on, without casting a look
behind him, doggedly and boldly marched old
Brand, followed by his sturdy family.

They made but a few miles that evening, for
the first day the start is all that is effected; and
nearly the whole morning is taken up in getting
fairly under weigh. The loose stock had been
sent off earlier, for they had been collected and
corraled the previous night; and, after a twelve
hours' fast, it was necessary they should reach
the end of the day's journey betimes. They
found the herd grazing in the bottom of the Ar-

IN THE OLD WEST 323

kansa, at a point previously fixed upon for their
first camp. Here the oxen were unyoked, and
the wagons drawn up so as to form three sides
of a small square. The women then descended
from their seats, and prepared the evening meal.
A huge fire was kindled before the wagons, and
round this the whole party collected; whilst large
kettles of coffee boiled on it, and hoe-cakes baked
upon the embers.

The women were sadly down-hearted, as well
they might be, with the dreary prospect before
them ; and poor Mary, when she saw the Mormon
encampment shut out from her sight by the roll-
ing bluffs, and nothing before her but the bleak
barren prairie, could not divest herself of the
idea that she had looked for the last time on civil-
ized fellow-creatures, and fairly burst into tears.

In the morning the heavy wagons rolled on
again across the upland prairies, to strike the trail
used by the traders in passing from the south fork
of the Platte to the Arkansa. They had for
guide a Canadian voyageur, who had been in the
service of the Indian traders, and knew the route
well, and who had agreed to pilot them to Fort
Lancaster, on the north fork of the Platte. Their
course led for about thirty miles up the Boiling
Spring River, whence they pursued a north-
easterly course to the dividing ridge which sepa-
rates the waters of the Platte and Arkansa. Their
progress was slow, for the ground was saturated

324 IN THE OLD WEST

with wet, and exceedingly heavy for the cattle,
and they scarcely advanced more than ten miles
a-day.

At the camp-fire at night, Antoine, the Cana-
dian guide, amused them with tales of the wild life
and perilous adventures of the hunters and trap-
pers who make the mountains their home ; often
extorting a scream from the women by the de-
scription of some scene of Indian fight and slaugh-
ter, or beguiling them of a commiserating tear
by the narrative of the sufferings and privations
endured by those hardy hunters in their arduous
life.

Mary listened with the greater interest since
she remembered that such was the life which had
been led by one very dear to her — by one long
supposed to be dead, of whom she had never but
once since his departure, nearly fifteen years be-
fore, heard a syllable. Her imagination pictured
him as the bravest and most daring of these ad-
venturous hunters, and conjured up his figure
charging through the midst of whooping sav-
ages, or stretched on the ground perishing from
wounds, or cold, or famine.

Amongst the characters who figured in An-
toine's stories, a hunter named La Bonte was
made conspicuous for deeds of hardiness and dar-
ing. The first mention of the name caused the
blood to rush to Mary's face; not that she for
a moment imagined it was her La Bonte, for she

IN THE OLD WEST 325

knew the name was a common one ; but, associated
with feelings which she had never got the better
of, it recalled a sad epoch in her former life, to
which she could not look back without mingled
pain and pleasure.

Once only, and about two years after his de-
parture, had she ever received tidings of her
former lover. A mountaineer had returned from
the Far West to settle in his native state, and had
found his way to the neighborhood of old Brand's
farm. Meeting him by accident, Mary, hearing
him speak of the mountain hunters, had inquired,
tremblingly, after La Bonte. Her informant
knew him well — had trapped in company with
him — and had heard at the trading-fort, whence
he had taken his departure for the settlements,
that La Bonte had been killed on the Yellow
Stone by Blackfeet; which report was confirmed
by some Indians of that nation. This was all she
had ever learned of the lover of her youth.

Now, upon hearing the name of La Bonte so
often mentioned by Antoine, a vague hope was
raised in her breast that he was still alive; and
she took an opportunity of questioning the Cana-
dian closely on the subject.

" Who was this La Bonte, Antoine, who you
say was so brave a mountaineer? " she asked one
day.

" J'ne sais pas ; he vas un beau gar9on, and
strong comme le diable — enfant de garce, mais

326 IN THE OLD WEST

he pas not care a dam for les sauvages, pe gar.
He shoot de centare avec his carabine, and ride
de cheval comme one Comanche. He trap heap
castor (what you call beevare), and get plenty
dollare — mais he open hand vare wide — and got
none too. Den, he hont vid de Blackfoot and avec
de Cheyenne, and all round de montaignes he hont
dam sight."

" But, Antoine, what became of him at last ?
and why did he not come home, when he made so
many dollars ? " asked poor Mary.

" Enfant de garce, mais pourquoi he com home?
Pe gar, de montaigne-man, he love de montaigne
and de prairie more better dan he love de grandes
villes — meme de St. Louis ou de Montreal.
Wagh! La Bonte, well, he one montaigne-man,
wagh ! He love de buffaloe and de chevreaux plus
que de boeuf and de mouton, maybe. Mais on dit
dat he have autre raison — dat de gal he lofe in
Missouri not lofe him, and for dis he not go back.
Mais now he go ondare, m'on dit. He vas go to
de Californe, maybe to steal de hose and de mule
— pe gar, and de Espagnols rub him out, and take
his hair, so he mort."

" But are you sure of this ? " she asked, trem-
bling with grief.

"Ah, now, j'ne suis pas sur; mais I tink you
know dis La Bonte. Enfant de garce, maybe you
de gal in Missouri he lofe, and not lofe him. Pe
gar! 'fant de garce! fort beau gar9on dis La

IN THE OLD WEST 327

Bonte; pourquoi you ne 1'aimez pas? Maybe he
not go ondare. Maybe he turn op, autrefois.
De trappares, dey go ondare tree, four, ten times,
mais dey turn op twenty time. De sauvage not
able for kill La Bonte, ni de dam Espagnols. Ah,
non ! ne craignez pas ; be gar, he not gone ondare
encore."

Spite of the good-natured attempts of the Cana-
dian, poor Mary burst into a flood of tears: not
that the information took her unawares, for she
long had believed her lover dead ; but because the
very mention of his name awoke the strongest feel-
ings within her breast, and taught her how deep
was the affection she had felt for him whose loss
and violent fate she now bewailed.

As the wagons of the lone caravan roll on
towards the Platte, we return to the camp where
La Bonte, Killbuck, and the stranger, were sitting
before the fire when last we saw them. Killbuck
loquitur: —

" The doin's of them Mormon fools can't be
beat by Spaniards, stranger. Their mummums
and thummums you speak of won't shine whar In-
juns are about ; nor pint out a trail, whar nothin'
crossed but rattler-snakes since fust it snowed on
old Pike's Peak. If they pack along them
profits, as you tell of, who can make it rain hump-
ribs and marrow-guts when the crowd gets out of
the buffler range, they are some, now, that's a
fact. But this child don't believe it. I'd laugh

IN THE OLD WEST

to get a sight on these darned Mormonites, I
would. They're no account, I guess ; and it's the
meanest kind of action to haul their women crit-
ters and their young 'uns to sech a starving coun-
try as the Californys."

" They are not all Mormons in the crowd," said
the strange hunter ; " and there's one family
amongst them with some smartish boys and girls,
I tell you. Their name's Brand."

La Bonte looked up from the lock of his rifle,
which he was cleaning — but either didn't hear,
or, hearing, didn't heed, for he continued his work.

" And they are going to part company," con-
tinued the stranger, " and put out alone for
Platte and the South Pass."

"They'll lose their hair, I'm thinking," said
Killbuck, " if the Rapahos are out thar."

" I hope not," continued the other, " for there's
a girl amongst them worth more than that."

" Poor beaver ! " said La Bonte, looking up
from his work. " I'd hate to see any white gal
in the hands of Injuns, and of Rapahos worse than
all. Where does she come from, stranger? "

" Down below St. Louis, from Tennessee, I've
heard them say."

" Tennessee," cried La Bonte, — " hurrah for

the old state! What's her name, stran '

At this moment Killbuck's old mule pricked her
ears and snuffed the air, which action catching
La Bonte's eye, he rose abruptly, without waiting

IN THE OLD WEST

a reply to his question, and exclaimed, " The old
mule smells Injuns, or I'm a Spaniard ! "

The hunter did the old mule justice, and she
well maintained her reputation as the best guard
in the mountains ; for in two minutes an Indian
stalked into the camp, dressed in a cloth capote,
and in odds and ends of civilized attire.

" Rapaho," cried Killbuck, as soon as he saw
him; and the Indian catching the word, struck
his hand upon his breast, and exclaimed, in broken
Spanish and English mixed, " Si, si, me Arapaho,
white man amigo. Come to camp — eat heap
came — me amigo white man. Come from Pueblo
— hunt cibola — me gun break — no puedo matar
nada: mucha hambre (very hungry) — heap
eat." s

Killbuck offered his pipe to the Indian, and
spoke to him in his own language, which both he
and La Bonte well understood. They learned that
h*> was married to a Mexican woman, and lived
with some hunters at the Pueblo fort on the Ar-
kansa. He volunteered the information that a
war-party of his people were out on the Platte
trail to intercept the Indian traders on their re-
turn from the North Fork ; and as some " Mor-
mones " had just started with three wagons in that
direction, he said his people would make a " raise."
Being muy amigo himself to the whites, he cau-
tioned his present companions from crossing to
the divide, as the braves, he said, were a heap

330 IN THE OLD WEST

mad, and their hearts were big, and nothing in
the shape of white skin would live before them.

"Wagh!" exclaimed Killbuck, "the Rapahos
know me, I'm thinking; and small gain they've
made against this child. I've knowed the time
when my gun-cover couldn't hold more of their
scalps."

The Indian was provided with some powder, of
which he stood in need ; and after gorging as much
meat as his capacious stomach would hold, he
left the camp, and started into the mountain.

The next day our hunters started on their jour-
ney down the river, traveling leisurely, and stop-
ping wherever good grass presented itself. One
morning they suddenly struck a wheel-trail, which
left the creek-banks and pursued a course at right
angles to it, in the direction of the divide. Kill-
buck pronounced it but a few hours old, and that
of three wagons drawn by oxen.

" Wagh ! " he exclaimed, " if them poor devils
of Mormonites ain't going head first into the
Rapaho trap. They'll be gone beaver afore
long."

" Aye," said the strange hunter, " these are the
wagons belonging to old Brand, and he has started
alone for Laramie. I hope nothing will happen
to them."

"Brand!" muttered La Bonte. "I knowed
that name mighty well once, years agone; and
should hate the worst kind that mischief happened

IN THE OLD WEST 331

to any one who bore it. This trail's as fresh as
paint, and it goes against me to let these simple
critters help the Rapahos to their own hair. This
child feels like helping 'em out of the scrape.
What do you say, old hoss ? "

" I thinks with you, boy," answered Killbuck,
" and go in for following this wagon-trail, and
telling the poor critters that thar's danger ahead
of them. What's your talk, stranger ? "

" I go with you," shortly answered the latter ;
and both followed quickly after La Bonte, who
was already trotting smartly on the trail.

Meanwhile the three wagons, containing the
household gods of the Brand family, rumbled slowly
over the rolling prairie, and towards the upland
ridge of the divide, which, studded with dwarf-
pine and cedar thicket, rose gradually before them.
They traveled with considerable caution, for al-
ready the quick eye of Antoine had discovered
recent Indian sign upon the trail, and with moun-
tain quickness had at once made it out to be that
of a war-party: for there were no horses with
them, and after one or two of the moccasin-tracks,
the mark of a rope which trailed upon the ground
was sufficient to show him that the Indians were
provided with the usual lasso of skin, with which
to secure the horses stolen in the expedition.
The men of the party were consequently all
mounted and thoroughly armed, the wagons moved
in a line abreast, and a sharp look-out was kept

332 IN THE OLD WEST

on all sides. The women and children were all
consigned to the interior of the wagons ; and the
latter had also guns in readiness to take their
part in the defense, should an attack be made.

However, they had seen no Indians, and no fresh
sign, for two days after they left the Boiling
Spring River, and they began to think they were
well out of their neighborhood. One evening they
camped on a creek called Black Horse, and, as
usual, had corraled the wagons, and forted as
well as circumstances would permit, when three or
four Indians suddenly appeared on a bluff at a
little distance, and, making signals of peaceable
intentions, approached the camp. Most of the
men were absent at the time, attending to the
cattle or collecting fuel, and only old Brand and
one of his young grandchildren, about fourteen
years old, remained in camp. The Indians were
hospitably received, and regaled with a smoke,
after which they began to evince their curiosity
by examining every article lying about, and signi-
fying their wishes that it should be given to them.
Finding their hints were not taken, they laid hold
of several things which took their fancies, and,
amongst others, of the pot which was boiling on
the fire, and with which one of them was about
very coolly to walk off, when old Brand, who up
to this moment had retained possession of his
temper, seized it out of the Indian's hand and
knocked him down. One of the others instantly

IN THE OLD WEST

began to draw the buckskin cover from his gun,
and would no doubt have taken summary venge-
ance for the insult offered to his companion, when
Mary Brand courageously stepped up to him,
and, placing her left hand upon the gun which he
was in the act of uncovering, with the other pointed
a pistol at his breast.

Whether daunted by the bold act of the girl,
or admiring her devotion to her father, the Indian
drew himself back, exclaimed " Howgh ! " and
drew the cover again on his piece, went up to old
Brand, who all this time looked him sternly in the
face, and, shaking him by the hand, motioned at
the same time to the other to be peaceable.

The other whites presently coming into camp,
the Indians sat quietly down by the fire, and when
the supper was ready, joined in the repast, after
which they gathered their buffalo-robes about
them, and quietly withdrew. Meanwhile An-
toine, knowing the treacherous character of the
savages, advised that the greatest precaution
should be taken to secure the stock; and before
dark, therefore, all the mules and horses were hob-
bled and secured within the corral, the oxen being
allowed to feed at liberty — for the Indians
scarcely care to trouble themselves with such cat-
tle. A guard was also set round the camp, and
relieved every two hours ; the fire was extinguished,
lest the savages should aim, by its light, at any
of the party, and all slept with rifles ready at

334 IN THE OLD WEST

their sides. However, the night passed quietly,
and nothing disturbed the tranquillity of the camp.
The prairie wolves loped hungrily around, and
their mournful cry was borne upon the wind, as
they chased deer and antelope on the neighbor-
ing plain; but not a sign of lurking Indians was
seen or heard.

In the morning, shortly after sunrise, they were
in the act of yoking the oxen to the wagons, and
driving in the loose animals which had been turned
out to feed at daybreak, when some Indians again
appeared upon the bluff, and, descending it, con-
fidently approached the camp. Antoine strongly
advised their not being allowed to enter; but
Brand, ignorant of Indian treachery, replied that,
so long as they came as friends, they could not
be deemed enemies, and allowed no obstruction to
be offered to their approach. It was now observed
that they were all painted, armed with bows and
arrows, and divested of their buffalo-robes, ap-
pearing naked to the breech-clout, their legs only
being protected by deer-skin leggings, reaching
to the middle of the thigh. Six or seven first ar-
rived, and others quickly followed, dropping in one
after the other, until a score or more were collected
round the wagons. Their demeanor, at first
friendly, soon changed as their numbers increased,
and they now became urgent in their demands for
powder and lead, and bullying in their manner.
A chief accosted Brand, and, through Antoine,

IN THE OLD WEST 335

informed him that, unless the demands of his
braves were acceded to, he could not be respon-
sible for the consequences ; that they were out on
the war-trail, and their eyes were red with blood,
so that they could not distinguish between white
and Yuta scalps; that the party, with all their
women and wagons, were in the power of the In-
dian braves, and therefore the white chief's best
plan was to make the best terms he could ; that all
they required was that they should give up their
guns and ammunition " on the prairie," and all
their mules and horses — retaining the " medicine
buffaloes " (the oxen) " to draw their wagons."

By this time the oxen were yoked, and the team-
sters, whip in hand, only waited the word to start.
Old Brand foamed whilst the Indian stated his de-
mands, but, hearing him to the end, exclaimed,
" Darn the red devil ! I wouldn't give him a grain
of powder to save my life. Put out, boys ! " —
and turning to his horse, which stood ready sad-
dled, was about to mount, when the Indians sprang
at once upon the wagons, and commenced their
attack, yelling like fiends.

One jumped upon old Brand, pulled him back
as he was rising in the stirrup, and drew his bow
upon him at the same moment. In an instant the
old backwoodsman pulled a pistol from his belt,
and, putting the muzzle to the Indian's heart, shot
him dead. Another Indian, flourishing his war-
club, laid the old man at his feet; whilst some

336 IN THE OLD WEST

dragged the women from the wagons, and others
rushed upon the men, who made brave fight in their
defense.

Mary, when she saw her father struck to the
ground, sprang with a shrill cry to his assistance ;
for at that moment a savage, frightful as red paint
could make him, was standing over his prostrate
body, brandishing a glittering knife in the air,
preparatory to thrusting it into the old man's
breast. For the rest, all was confusion: in vain
the small party of whites struggled against over-
powering numbers. Their rifles cracked but once,
and they were quickly disarmed ; whilst the shrieks
of the women and children, and the loud yells of
the Indians, added to the scene of horror and con-
fusion. As Mary flew to her father's side, an In-
dian threw his lasso at her, the noose falling over
her shoulders, and jerking it tight, he uttered a
delighted yell as the poor girl was thrown back
violently to the ground. As she fell, another de-
liberately shot an arrow at her body, whilst the
one who had thrown the lasso rushed forward, his
scalp-knife flashing in his hand, to seize the bloody
trophy of his savage deed. The girl rose to her
knees, and looked wildly towards the spot where
her father lay bathed in blood; but the Indian
pulled the rope violently, dragged her some yards
upon the ground, and then rushed with a yell of
vengeance upon his victim. He paused, however,
as at that moment a shout as fierce as his own

IN THE OLD WEST 337

sounded at his very ear; and, looking up, he saw
La Bonte galloping madly down the bluff, his long
hair and the fringes of his hunting-shirt and leg-
gings flying in the wind, his right arm supporting
his trusty rifle, whilst close behind him came Kill-
buck and the stranger. Dashing with loud hur-
rahs to the scene of action, La Bonte, as he charged
down the bluff, caught sight of the girl struggling
in the hands of the ferocious Indian. Loud was
the war-shout of the mountaineer, as he struck
his heavy spurs to the rowels in his horse's side,
and bounded like lightning to the rescue. In a
single stride he was upon the Indian, and thrusting
the muzzle of his rifle into his very breast, he pulled
the trigger, driving the savage backward by the
blow itself, at the same moment that the bullet
passed through his heart and tumbled him over
stone-dead. Throwing down his rifle, La Bonte
wheeled his obedient horse, and, drawing a pistol
from his belt, again charged the enemy, among
whom Killbuck and the stranger were dealing
death-giving blows. Yelling for victory, the
mountaineers rushed at the Indians ; and they,
panic-stricken at the sudden attack, and thinking
this was but the advanced-guard of a large band,
fairly turned and fled, leaving five of their number
dead upon the field.

Mary, shutting her eyes to the expected death-
stroke, heard the loud shout La Bonte gave in
charging down the bluff, and, again looking up,

338 IN THE OLD WEST

saw the wild-looking mountaineer rush to her
rescue, and save her from the savage by his timely
blow. Her arms were still pinned by the lasso,
which prevented her from rising to her feet ; and La
Bonte was the first to run to aid her, as soon as
the fight was fairly over. He jumped from his
horse, cut the skin-rope which bound her, raised
her from the ground, and, upon her turning up
her face to thank him, beheld his never-to-be-for-
gotten Mary Brand; whilst she, hardly believing
her senses, recognized in her deliverer her former
lover, and still well-beloved La Bonte.

" What, Mary ! can it be you? " he asked, look-
ing intently upon the trembling woman.

" La Bonte, you don't forget me ! " she answered,
and threw herself sobbing into the arms of the
sturdy mountaineer.

There we will leave her for the present, and help
Killbuck and his companions to examine the killed
and wounded. Of the former, five Indians and
two whites lay dead, the latter grandchildren of
old Brand, fine lads of fourteen or fifteen, who had
fought with the greatest bravery, and lay pierced
with arrows and lance-wounds. Old Brand had
received a sore buffet, but a hatful of cold water
from the creek sprinkled over his face soon re-
stored him. His sons had not escaped scot-free,
and Antoine was shot through the neck, and, fall-
ing, had actually been half-scalped by an Indian,

IN THE OLD WEST 339

whom the timely arrival of La Bonte had caused to
leave his work unfinished.

Silently, and with sad hearts, the survivors of
the family saw the bodies of the two boys buried
on the river-bank, and the spot marked with a pile
of loose stones, procured from the rocky bed of the
creek. The carcasses of the treacherous Indians
were left to be devoured by wolves, and their bones
to bleach in the sun and wind — a warning to their
tribe, that such foul treachery as they had medi-
tated had met with a merited retribution. fc

The next day the party continued their course
to the Platte. Antoine and the stranger returned
to the Arkansa, starting in the night to avoid the
Indians ; but Killbuck and La Bonte lent the aid
of their rifles to the solitary caravan, and, under
their experienced guidance, no more Indian perils
were encountered. Mary no longer sat perched
up in her father's Conestoga, but rode a quiet
mustang by La Bonte's side; and no doubt they
found a theme with which to while away the mo-
notonous journey over the dreary plains. South
Fork was passed, and Laramie was reached. The
Sweet Water Mountains, which hang over the pass
to California, were long since in sight; but when
the waters of the North Fork of Platte lay before
their horses' feet, and the broad trail was pointed
out which led to the great valley of Columbia and
their promised land, the heads of the oxen were

340 IN THE OLD WEST

turned down the stream, where the shallow waters
flow on to join the great Missouri — and not up,
towards the mountains, where they leave their
spring-heads, — from which springs flow several
waters, some coursing their way to the eastward,
fertilizing, in their route to the Atlantic, the lands
of civilized man, others westward, forcing a pas-
sage through rocky canons, and flowing through
a barren wilderness, inhabited by fierce and bar-
barous tribes.

These were the routes to choose between ; and,
whatever was the cause, the oxen turned their
yoked heads away from the rugged mountains ; the
teamsters joyfully cracked their ponderous whips,
as the wagons rolled lightly down the Platte; and
men, women, and children waved their hats and
bonnets in the air and cried out lustily, " Hurrah
for home ! "

La Bonte looked at the dark somber mountains
ere he turned his back upon them for the last time.
He thought of the many years he had spent be-
neath their rugged shadow, of the many hardships
he had suffered, of all his pains and perils in those
wild regions. The most exciting episodes of his
adventurous career, his tried companions in scenes
of fierce fight and bloodshed, passed in review be-
fore him. A feeling of regret was creeping over
him, when Mary laid her hand gently on his shoul-
der. One single tear rolled unbidden down his
cheek, and he answered her inquiring eyes : " I'm

IN THE OLD WEST 341

not sorry to leave it, Mary," he said ; " but it's
hard to turn one's back upon old friends."

They had a hard battle with Killbuck, in en-
deavoring to persuade him to accompany them to
the settlements. The old mountaineer shook his
head. The time, he said, was gone by for that.
He had often thought of it, but, when the day ar-
rived, he hadn't heart to leave the mountains.
Trapping now was of no account, he knew; but
beaver was bound to rise, and then the good times
would come again. What could he do in the set-
tlements, where there wasn't room to move, and
where it was hard to breathe — there were so many
people ?

He accompanied them a considerable distance
down the river, ever and anon looking cautiously
back, to ascertain that he had not gone out of sight
of the mountains. Before reaching the forks, how-
ever, he finally bade them adieu ; and, turning the
head of his old grizzled mule westward, he heartily
wrung the hand of his comrade La Bonte ; and, cry-
ing Yep ! to his well-tried animal, disappeared be-
hind a roll of the prairie, and was seen no more
— a thousand good wishes for the welfare of
the sturdy trapper speeding him on his solitary
way.

Four months from the day when La Bonte so
opportunely appeared to rescue Brand's family
from the Indians on Black Horse Creek, that
worthy and the faithful Mary were duly and law-

342 IN THE OLD WEST

fully united in the township church of Brandville,
Memphis County, State of Tennessee. We cannot
say, in the concluding words of nine hundred and
ninety-nine thousand novels, that " numerous
pledges of mutual love surrounded and cheered
them in their declining years," &c., &c. ; because
it was only on the 24th of July, in the year of our
Lord 1847, that La Bonte and Mary Brand were
finally made one, after fifteen long years of separa-
tion.

The fate of one of the humble characters who
have figured in these pages we must yet tarry a
little longer to describe.

During the past winter, a party of mountaineers,
flying from overpowering numbers of hostile Sioux,
found themselves, one stormy evening, in a wild and
dismal canon near the' elevated mountain valley
called the New Park.

The rocky bed of a dry mountain torrent, whose
waters were now locked up at their spring-heads
by icy fetters, was the only road up which they
could make their difficult way ; for the rugged sides
of the gorge rose precipitously from the creek,
scarcely affording a foot-hold to even the active
bighorn, which occasionally looked down upon the
travelers from the lofty summit. Logs of pine up-
rooted by the hurricanes which sweep incessantly
through the mountain defiles, and tossed headlong
from the surrounding ridges, continually ob-
structed their way; and huge rocks and boulders,

IN THE OLD WEST 343

fallen from the heights and blocking up the bed
of the stream, added to the difficulty, and threat-
ened them every instant with destruction.

Towards sundown they reached a point where
the canon opened out into a little shelving glade
or prairie, a few hundred yards in extent, the en-
trance to which was almost hidden by thicket of
dwarf pine and cedar. Here they determined to
encamp for the night, in a spot secure from In-
dians, and, as they imagined, untrodden by the
foot of man.

What, however, was their astonishment, on
breaking through the cedar-covered entrance, to
perceive a solitary horse standing motionless in
the center of the prairie. Drawing near, they
found it to be an old grizzled mustang, or In-
dian pony, with cropped ears and ragged tail
(well picked by hungry mules), standing doubled
up with cold, and at the very last gasp from ex-
treme old age and weakness. Its bones were
nearly through the stiffened skin, the legs of the
animal were gathered under it; whilst its forlorn-
looking head and stretched-out neck hung list-
lessly downwards, almost overbalancing its totter-
ing body. The glazed and sunken eye — the pro-
truding and froth-covered tongue — the heaving
flank and quivering tail — declared its race was
run ; and the driving sleet and snow, and penetrat-
ing winter blast, scarce made impression upon its
callous and worn-out frame.

S44 IN THE OLD WEST

One of the band of mountaineers was Marcelline,
and a single look at the miserable beast was suffi-
cient for him to recognize the once renowned Nez-
perce steed of old Bill Williams. That the owner
himself was not far distant he felt certain; and,
searching carefully around, the hunters presently
came upon an old camp, before which lay, pro-
truding from the snow, the blackened remains of
pine logs. Before these, which had been the fire,
and leaning with his back against a pine trunk,
and his legs crossed under him, half covered with
snow, reclined the figure of the old mountaineer,
his snow-capped head bent over his breast. His
well-known hunting-coat of fringed elk-skin hung
stiff and weather-stained about him ; and his rifle,
packs, and traps were strewed around.

Awe-struck, the trappers approached the body,
and found it frozen hard as stone, in which state
it had probably lain there for many days or weeks.
A Jagged rent in the breast of his leather coat,
and dark stains about it, showed he had received
a wound before his death; but it was impossible
to say, whether to his hurt, or to sickness, or to
the natural decay of age, was to be attributed
the wretched and solitary end of poor Bill Wil-
liams.

A friendly bullet cut short the few remaining
hours of the trapper's faithful steed; and bury-
ing, as well as they were able, the body of the
old mountaineer, the hunters next day left him

IN THE OLD WEST 345

in his lonely grave, in a spot so wild and remote,
that it was doubtful whether even hungry wolves
would discover and disinter his attenuated corpse.

THE END

OUTING PUBLISHING COMPANY — NEW YORK

OUTING
ADVENTURE
LIBRARY

Edited by Horace Kephart

Here are brought together for
the first time the great stories of
adventure of all ages and countries.
These are the personal records of
the men who climbed the mountains, penetrated the
jungles, explored the seas and crossed the desert; who
knew the chances and took them, and lived to write
their own tales of hardship, endurance and achievement.
The series will consist of an indeterminate number of
volumes — for the stories are myriad. The whole will be
edited by Horace Kephart. Each volume answers the
test of these questions: Is it true? Is it interesting?
The entire series is uniform in style and binding.
Among the titles now ready or in preparation are those
described on the following pages. Price $1.00 each,
net. Postage 10 cents extra.

IN THE OLD WEST, by George Frederick
Ruxton. The men who blazed the trail across the
Rockies to the Pacific were independent trappers and
hunters in the days before the Mexican war. They
left no records of their adventures and most of them
linger now only as shadowy names. But a young Eng-
lishman lived among them for a time, saw life from
their point of view, trapped with them and fought with
them against the Indians. That was George Frederick
Ruxton. His story is our only complete picture of the
Old West in the days of the real pioneers, of Kit
Carson, Jim Bridger, Bill Williams, the Sublettes, and
all the rest of that glorious company of the forgotten
who opened the West.

13

OUTING PUBLISHING COMPANY — NEW YORK

CASTAWAYS AND CRUSOES. Since the
beginning of navigation men have faced the dangers of
shipwreck and starvation. Scattered through the an-
nals of the sea are the stories of those to whom disaster
came and the personal records of the way they met it.
Some of them are given in this volume, narratives of
men who lived by their hands among savages on for-
lorn coasts, or drifted helpless in open boats. They
range from the South Seas to the Gulf of St. Lawrence,
from Patagonia to Cuba. They are echoes from the
days when the best that could be hoped by the man
who went to sea was hardship and man's-sized work.

CAPTIVES AMONG THE INDIANS.

First of all is the story of Captain James Smith, who
was captured by the Delawares at the time of Brad-
dock's defeat, was adopted into the tribe, and for four
years lived as an Indian, hunting with them, studying
their habits, and learning their point of view. Then
there is the story of Father Bressani who felt the tor-
tures of the Iroquois, of Mary Rowlandson who was
among the human spoils of King Philip's war, and of
Mercy Harbison who suffered in the red flood that fol-
lowed St. Glair's defeat. All are personal records made
by the actors themselves in those days when the Indian
was constantly at our forefather's doors.

FIRST THROUGH THE GRAND CAN-
YON, by Major John Wesley Powell. Major
Powell was an officer in the Union Army who lost an
arm at Shiloh. In spite of this, four years after the war
he organized an expedition which explored the Grand
Canyon of the Colorado in boats — the first to make this
journey. His story has been lost for years in the
oblivion of a scientific report. It is here rescued and
presented as a record of one of the great personal ex-
ploring feats, fitted to rank with the exploits of Pike,
Lewis and Clark, and Mackenzie.

14

OUTING PUBLISHING COMPANY — NEW YORK

ADRIFT IN THE ARCTIC ICE-PACK, by
Dr. Elisha Kent Kane. Dr. Kane was connected
with one of the numerous relief expeditions which went
north in the middle of the last century, sailing from
New York early in the spring of 1849. They found
themselves caught in the ice of Lancaster Sound early
in the fall and spent the entire winter driving to and
fro across the Sound frozen fast in the ice-pack. Dr.
Kane's narrative gives the most vivid and accurate ac-
count that has ever appeared of ship life during an arc-
tic winter. He contributes many important observations
as to ice and weather conditions. His picture of the
equipment and provisions makes rather strange reading
in the light of our modern development for exploration
purposes.

THE LION HUNTER, by Ronalyn Gor-
don-Cumming. The author was an Englishman who
was among the first of the now numerous tribe of
sportsmen writers. Going out to South Africa in the
early half of the last century he found a hunting field
as yet untouched; antelope roamed the plains like cattle
on a western range and lions were almost as numerous
as coyotes in the old cattle days. In the course of his
wanderings with the handful of natives, he penetrated
the far interior of Africa and finally encountered Living-
ston. His account of his experiences with dangerous
game armed only with the old-fashioned muzzle-loaded
rifles makes the exploits of modern sportsmen seem
almost puny in their safety.

HOBART PASHA, by Augustus Charles
Hobart-Hampden. Recollections of one of the most
remarkable men of the 19th century. He served in the
English Navy from 1835-1863, after which he engaged
in blockade running in the interest of the Confederacy,
in the prosecution of which he had many close shaves
but was never caught. He then entered the Turkish
navy, built it up and fought against the Russians. The
whole book is filled with thrilling adventures and nar-
row escapes.

15

OUTING PUBLISHING COMPANY — NEW YORK

ADVENTURES IN MEXICO, by George
Frederick Ruxton. This volume describes Ruxton's
second visit to America, but this time he landed at
Vera Cruz, from where he went to Mexico City and
thence north to the American border. Mexico was
then at war with the United States, bandits roamed over
the country right up to the gates of the capital, and
Indians infested the northern part. Still he made the
journey of 2,000 miles, often alone, experiencing many
exciting adventures.

WILD LIFE IN THE ROCKY MOUN-
TAINS, by George Frederick Ruxton. A con-
tinuation of Ruxton's ADVENTURES IN MEXICO,
from Chihuahua north. In the course of his journey
he had to pass through treeless deserts, where he suf-
fered much from lack of water; spent the winter in the
Rocky Mountains and finally crossed the United States
boundary.

*THE GOLD HUNTER, by J. D. Borth-
wick. He was an English artist who joined the rush
of treasurer seekers to California in 1851. It is a lively
description of the voyage via Panama, of San Francisco
from its days of the bowie-knife and top-boots to its
development into an orderly community, of life (and
death) in "the diggings" and of the motely gathering
of all nationalities in town and camp, their toil, sports,
virtues, crimes and shifting fortunes. The book covers
the period from 1851-1856.

GREAT DIVIDE, THE, by Earl Dunraven.
Sport and travel in the Upper Yellowstone in the sum-
mer of 1874 with George Kingsley and Texas Jack.
Stalking the wapiti and bighorn, encounters with griz-
zlies, camp life at its best and worst, Indians and
frontiersmen, the joys of wild life and the pathos of it,
the crest of the continent and the vales of "Wonder-
land," all are depicted by the Earl of Dunraven.

LIFE AMONG THE APACHES, by John
C. Cremony. He was interpreter of the United States
Boundary Commission and served against the Indians
as Major of a California regiment during the Civil War.
His personal encounters with the Apaches were of the
most desperate nature.

16

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