CHAPTER XXII.
BEAVER HUNTERS.
We left our camp at a rather early hour, and soon found below it numerous signs of beaver trees, a foot and a half in diameter, lay with a great number of smaller ones along the banks of the stream, and farther in the wood we saw trees glistening whose bark had been peeled off several feet above the ground. Any one unacquainted with these animals and their habits would surely have believed that new settlers had been busy here, and cut down wood for their block houses. The splinters lay in heaps round the bitten-through trees, as if we had been in a carpenter's shop, and many of the felled trees had been stripped of their branches. These most interesting animals generally settle on the smaller streams and brooks, and their families at first consist of but few members. On such a stream they cautiously select a spot where several tall soft-wooded trees, such as poplars, aspens, ashes, maples, &c. stand on both sides of it, then proceed together to one of the trunks, stand on their hind legs, and follow each other slowly round it, tearing out of the tree at each bite great bits of wood, as if they had been hewn out with an axe. They cut away more wood on the side of the tree turned to the river than on the opposite side, so that it becomes overbalanced and falls over into the water. Thus they fell one tree after the other across the stream, nibble off the branches, and carry other bits of wood between and under these trunks down to the river bed, while they fill up the interstices with twigs. After this is finished, they fetch on their broad flat tails mud and earth from the bank, and plaster the wooden dam, till it becomes so tight that the water rises before it, and overflows on both sides frequently for miles.
In this lake, produced by their art, the beavers build their houses, which are generally of three storeys, though at times of four. They are round and pointed like a sugar-loaf, are about twenty feet in diameter at the bottom of the water; the floors are about two feet high, and separated by a flooring, in the centre of which is a round hole, by means of which they go up and down the house. The only entrance is at the bottom of the water, and generally only the highest floor emerges from the water, so that the latter is always dry. The creatures build their house of branches three feet in length, which they bind together with twigs and earth, and make the walls nearly a foot thick. They thus build one floor over the other, each higher one being smaller, till the highest one terminates in a point. They line the interior with grass and moss, so that it affords them and their young a dry, warm abode in winter.
BEAVERS BUILDING A DAM. [[p. 268.]
The females give birth at the end of May, or beginning of June, to from two to six young, which are brought up in the colony and remain there; on the other hand, they never admit a strange beaver, and fight sanguinary battles with it, if it tries to force its way into their settlement. In proportion as the family increases, more houses are built, and I have often seen lodges in which a dozen houses peeped out of the water. The beavers, however, do not fell the trees solely to build their houses, but also to procure food from the tender bark of the thinner branches. They convey these branches in autumn, cut in lengths, to their houses, and pile up a large supply in the lower rooms, on which they live in winter. They go on land at this season, too, and for this purpose keep holes open, in the ice on the banks of their ponds, and I have also found their track in the snow; but as a rule, they remain at home at that season. If the family grow too numerous for the space and the food to be found in the vicinity, several members of it emigrate and establish a new lodge close by: frequently an old beaver colony will contain a hundred. The beaver is one of the most cautious and timid animals in creation, and it is very difficult to get at it on land and kill it with firearms; on the other hand, it is wonderfully easy to capture in traps, and in this way an entire colony can be extirpated to the last one in a very short period.
The male beaver carries in two bladders the castoreum officinale, a very powerfully-scented, oily fluid, which the hunter collects in a bottle and mixes with spirits, partly to keep it from putrefying, but principally to impart to it another odour, by which the beaver is induced to believe that it emanates from a stranger. In this bottle the hunter thrusts a twig, the point of which he moistens with its contents, then thrusts the other end of it into the bank of the beaver pond, so that the point projects over the water at a spot where it is not very deep. Exactly under this twig he places in the water his heavy iron trap, to which he fastens, by a long thong, a very large bush, which he throws on the bank. So soon as a beaver raises its nose on the surface of the pond, it smells the castoreum on the twig, swims up to convince itself whether it emanates from a stranger, and while going on land steps on the trap, which closes and catches its forefeet. It darts away with the trap into deep water, and wrestles furiously with the torturing iron, for which reason a beaver thus captured is never found to have sound teeth—till, quite exhausted, it tries to rise to the surface to breathe. The trap, however, keeps it down, and the prisoner is drowned in its own element. The next morning the hunter sees the bush floating over the spot where the beaver is lying, and pulls it up with the trap. The beaver hunters who visit these western deserts often take some dozens of traps with them, so that when they arrive at a colony, it is speedily destroyed, on which occasion they also capture in the same way the otters living there.
Usually these hunters go quite alone into the desert with a horse that carries the traps, some buffalo hides, salt, gunpowder, and bullets, and lead thus, several hundred of miles away from civilization, a most dangerous and fatiguing life for two or three years. At night they set their traps, and in the morning take out the captured animals, whose skins they dry before the fire, while their flesh serves them as food. When they have cleared out the spot, they pack up the skins, conceal them in caves, under rocks, and in hollow trees, and go farther with their traps. In winter, when the hunt is not very productive, they build huts of skins, or seek a cave in the rocks, in which they find a shelter from the harsh climate, and hunt other varieties of game, while they keep their horse alive on a stock of dried grass, collected in autumn, weeds, or poplar bark. At the end of some years, during which such a hunter has collected a large stock of skins, he proceeds to the nearest settlement, fetches pack animals thence, takes a sufficient number of men into his service, and proceeds to his hunting-grounds, in order to carry to market the produce of his lengthened labour. It is often the case that such a hunter receives from three to four thousand pounds for the skins collected during this period, but still more frequently he pays for his daring with his scalp and his life. The Indians themselves do not kill beavers, but regard the trappers as the pioneers of the white men, who eventually advance farther into their hunting-grounds, and take from them one piece of land after the other, by which they are daily driven farther back, and come into hostile collision with one another. Hence the trappers are hated by all the Indians, and pursued by them whenever they are seen. Only the great concealment and difficult approach to the regions where they hunt, and the great caution with which they manage to hide their abode from the eyes of the Indians, render it possible for them to lead this life for years, and constantly deceive the savages, when they accidentally acquire a knowledge of their presence. It is incredible what acuteness and skill such iron characters develope, and we must feel surprised that a single one of these adventurers ever sees his home again, I have lain for whole nights at the little fires of these people, and listened to their stories—how they became familiar with this life in their earliest youth, and returned to it when grey-haired, although able to live comfortably on their savings in the civilized world. As the seafarer dies on the water, the desert becomes the element of this hunter; and he rarely closes his eyes elsewhere—with the rifle on his arm.
The sign of beaver lodges which we saw was so fresh and numerous that probably no one had as yet appeared here with traps: the stream spread far over its bank and formed a very large pool, from whose surface a number of houses peeped out; but we could see nothing of the mysterious denizens of the settlement. We were compelled to ride close under the precipice on our right, where our cattle were up to their knees in water, in order to cross the inundation, while below the dams the stream remained in its narrow bed.
We reached Canadian River, which, however, here trended so to the east that we took the first opportunity of crossing the hills that bordered it and pursuing our course toward the north. On the other side of them, which we reached about noon, we came to another small stream, on whose banks we saw a number of peeled trees, and also found here a beaver lodge. We rode through the stream, and had left it about a mile behind us, when we suddenly heard a shout in our rear, and saw a man, who had stationed himself on an isolated rock, and was making signs to us. Tiger told me he was a beaver trapper. We rode back to bid this son of the desert good day and hear whether we could be of any service to him. When we drew nearer, the tall dark form disappeared from the rocks, and a man stepped from the thicket on our left, with a long rifle in his hand, and came up to us with the question—"Where from, strangers?" He was above six feet high, thin, but muscular, with extraordinarily broad shoulders, a dark bronzed face and neck, a long grey beard, and a haughty demeanour; his small, light-blue eyes flashed with great resolution under his thick black brows, while a pleasant smile softened the impression which his glance might have produced on a stranger. His exterior revealed at the first glance that he had endured a good deal in his time, that he had often defied fate, and that nothing could easily happen to him which would throw him out of gear and make his resolution totter. Deer-hide tight trowsers, shoes of the same material, and a jacket of the same composed his dress, and a scarlet woollen shirt, unbuttoned, allowed his bronzed chest to be seen. A beaver-skin cap proved that it was made by the wearer, and the same was the case with the hunting-bag he carried over his shoulder.
I rode up to the stranger and replied—"From the Leone on the Rio Grande," and offered him my hand, which he shook heartily. "Are you a trapper? and where from?" I asked him. "From Missouri; my name—Ben Armstrong—has been known for the last forty years in the Rocky Mountains, and I have now been back for a year from the old State." He invited us to go to his camp and spend the night with him, as he longed to hear something about events in the old States. We accepted his invitation, and followed him along a narrow path through the bushes and rocks to a spot some hundred yards above the pond, where we dismounted in front of some thick scrub, and passed through it with our host. We stepped on to a cleared spot, from which the axe had removed the bushes, at whose northern end heavy masses of rock rose above each other, and hanging over at a height of thirty feet, covered a large space. Over the whole place a number of dried beaver skins was suspended from the branches, as well as the hide of a grizzly, and many others of deer and antelopes. Under the rocks lay several bundles of beaver skins, while one of them drawn up near the fire seemed to have served our host as a seat.
Antonio and Königstein went down to the pond with our horses, where there was excellent grass, and watched over them in turn with my other comrades. I saw a track of a horse leading to our host's abode, and asked him whose it was, to which he replied that on this trip, for the first time in his life, he had taken a partner, a young Kentuckian of the name of Gray, who was at present out hunting on horseback, to get some venison, as they were sick of beaver meat. The next day, he said, they intended to leave their camp, as they had trapped all the beavers round, otherwise he would not have been so incautious as to lead so many horses to his hiding-place and thus betray it to passing Indians. He always led his own horse through the scrub up the stream, and let it graze on the opposite side, so that its track might not lead to his camp.
Our host now filled a cup from a small cask of whisky three of which lay under the rocks, and, as he told us, constituted his sole luxury. He loaded an extra mule with them when he started, but it had been killed some months previously by a couguar, as it had got loose at night. He readily offered us his favourite liquid and a cup of fresh spring water, and after taking a hearty pull himself he put six beaver tails in front of the fire, and we put all our coffeepots with them, and unpacked our small stock of biscuit, while we set the remaining marrow-bones from yesterday to roast.
The sun had not set when our friendly host's partner arrived with his horse, loaded with deer meat. He was greatly surprised at finding so large a party, and very pleased to have an opportunity of hearing news from the States, even though it was not of the freshest. He was young and tall, with a healthy, merry face, brown eyes, pleasant mouth, a commencing beard, and long, dark brown curls hanging over his shoulders. His tight-fitting leathern dress was made with more coquettishness than Armstrong's, and displayed his handsome person, while a broad-brimmed black beaver hat slightly pulled over one ear, imparted to his whole appearance something resolute and determined.
Our cattle were now brought up and fastened to the withered trees in the open space—then we lay down on our skins round the fire and enjoyed the beaver tails, while our hosts paid special attention to our biscuits and coffee, which were a rarity for them. After supper Armstrong sent the whisky-cup round again, then pipes were lighted, and we first answered the thousand questions asked us about the state of affairs at home, and which principally referred to politics. When this subject was exhausted, Armstrong spoke and told us the principal events of his life since he last bade farewell to civilization, his various bloodthirsty fights with the Indians, the dangers they had often escaped with difficulty, and the fatigues and unpleasantnesses they endured, among which he mentioned the hailstorm, which had also annoyed us. He told us of successful hunts with the traps, and promised to show us the next morning the last beaver to be found in these parts.
Then he told us how the ex-owner of the monstrous bearskin, which hung behind us on a tree, had paid a visit one evening to their camp, and how they killed it. For fear of the Indians they dared not light a large fire, and the few coals had not frightened the bear, which advanced within a few yards of them, when both fired their rifles at its head, and laid it dead on the ground. While telling this story, Armstrong pulled off his shirt and showed us on his sides and back a regular mass of scars which he had received from the embraces of dying grizzlies. He narrated so picturesquely that the matter was fully brought before the listener: his powerful deep voice, which kept pace with the fire of his narrative, the passionate gestures by which he accompanied his narrative, as well as his coarse form, illumined by the fire and the surrounding scenery, produced a remarkable and permanent impression on me. We listened to the stories till a late hour, when fatigue at length closed our eyes.
At the first beam of dawn we led our cattle into the grass, got breakfast ready, and then went with Armstrong about half a mile down the stream, where he had traps still set. We pulled up three beavers with the bushes floating on the water, and our host remarked that now there was only one old fellow left, who had escaped his traps several times and would not go near them again in a hurry. On returning to camp, we packed our animals and took leave of our kind hosts, to whom, to their great joy, we gave a portion of our stock of coffee. We then described to them accurately the district where we had seen the numerous beaver lodges, and wishing them all possible luck, rode again up the mountain's side where we had heard Armstrong shout.
For several days we followed our course without any particular difficulties, while the country retained much the same character. The Sacramento mountains seemed to run farther to the west, and attained their greatest height here. We soon got among higher mountains, and found we should have done better by going more to the east into the prairies, for we were obliged to turn and ride a long way back, as we could not pass through the mountains. At length, however, we reached a river of some size, which flowed to the north-east, and resolved to follow it until we reached lower and more accessible regions where we could pursue our course again. We spent the night on the north side of the river, and found, after riding a few miles down its bank, that the valley through which it flowed constantly grew narrower and the precipices on its sides steeper. It was still early, and the sun had been unable to overpower the thick fog which had gathered in the valleys during the night. It appeared, indeed, still uncertain whether it would rise or fall, as it hung about the rocks in long, narrow strips. It was as cold as on a damp autumn morning; the grass and bushes were as wet as after a heavy shower, and heavy dewdrops hung on the old spider's webs between them. We had put on our buffalo robes and guided our horses between the many loose blocks of stone and step-like strata, while the river constantly displayed larger and smaller cascades, some of which were twenty feet high, and its bed continually became deeper.
We had just reached one of these falls when we noticed on the other bank two very large grizzly bears, one of which squatted on its hind-quarters and stared over at us. They could not hurt us, as the stream above the fall was too rapid for them to swim across without being carried so far that they would go over the fall, and below the latter the banks were at least fifty feet high, and so steep that it was impossible to climb them. Tiger, for all that, advised us not to fire at them, as he was of opinion that they might find a spot where they could cross to us, and then they would give us a good deal of trouble. We therefore rode past without disturbing them, and only watched them as they licked their paws and passed them over their clumsy heads, while sniffing at us from time to time, and even following us a few yards along the bank.
The gorge down which the river dashed grew deeper and our route the more dangerous, until we suddenly came to a ravine which ran across our road into the river bed. Our farther progress was here checked, and we were obliged to try and make a path up it, which was effected with great difficulty, as the stones lay wildly about. We soon reached an old very practicable path, which, as it appeared to us, was used not only by buffaloes, but also by Indians, and which ran north-west. Tiger was of opinion that this was the road through these mountains to Santa Fé which the foot Indians employed, as they avoid the prairies in order to get out of the way of the mounted tribes, and because travelling in the tall grass is too fatiguing for a pedestrian.
We gladly followed it, for the road through the rocks was more impassable than ever; it ran up hill rather sharply toward the highest mountain saddles. The nearer we advanced to them the better and more passable the path became, and our horses scaled these high hills at a good pace, and at times had an opportunity of drawing breath on small plateaus. The sky was perfectly cloudless and the sun warm, so that we welcomed the light north wind. Eastward the low hills lay at our feet in the extreme distance, between which we could watch the various mountain torrents for a long way, while here and there the rich green of the fresh turf peeped out between the red masses. On our left, the mountains were piled on each other in the strangest forms until their glistening ice-peaks rose into the azure sky. Our path frequently wound along the precipices, where it could be seen for a long distance like a white stripe, and it did not seem possible to pass along it; but when we reached the spot our horses stepped lightly over it, and we found that it looked worse than it really was.
Thus, toward evening, when the sun was sinking behind the mountains, we saw our path suddenly disappear behind an abrupt precipice, and expected a dangerous bit. When we arrived there we considered it really better to dismount and lead our horses. The path constantly grew narrower under the precipice, and the abyss beneath us steeper and deeper at every step. We advanced as it was no longer possible to turn back, and with each foot our situation became more serious. We wound round the face of the rock and looked down into a dizzy ravine, whose bottom was already hidden by the gloom. The path was only a few feet wide, and at many places washed away by the rain. Tiger, with his piebald, was ahead of me, and was leading his horse by a long bridle; all at once he cried to me, "Take care," and I saw his horse step down and then spring up again. The rain had excavated the path here to some depth, and by its side the rocks went down sheer. Without hesitation, I seized the end of the bridle, quickly crossed the dangerous spot, and Czar did the same gallantly. Königstein followed me, and then one after the other till the mules at length came up. Jack was ahead; he went cautiously up and down, and I saw the basket on his left side graze the precipice; still he got across safely. Lizzy followed at his heels; but Sam swerved when he arrived at the spot, made a leap to get across, struck his basket against the precipice, and was hurled out into the abyss, down which he fell with all four feet in the air. A general "Ah!" was the sole sound that passed our lips, for we were not yet out of danger ourselves. Ere long, however, the path grew broader, and ran over a grassy plateau, whence we could look back at the dangerous point and into the dark abyss. Had we arrived from this side, not one of us would have dared to lead his horse over it, and we should have been obliged to ride round a long way.
The loss of Sam was serious to us, for he carried our coffee, spirits, several buffalo robes and articles of clothing. A little coffee was still packed on Jack, as we had opened a fresh bladder that very morning, and that animal carried all the articles for daily consumption. Still the matter could not be helped, and we regarded the loss as a very fortunate one, as we might just as easily have lost one of our horses, which would have been far more serious. We unpacked, as the sun had set and we did not know what roads we might still find. We had grass for our hungry cattle, and water for ourselves we carried with us. We made a small fire of bois de vache, to which Tiger presently brought a few twigs of mimosa, so that we were able to cook our supper; then we supplied our friends whose bedding had fallen into the abyss with such blankets and hides as we could spare. The night was very cold, and we missed a good wood fire terribly. We rolled ourselves tighter in our blankets and skins, but could not keep warm, and were glad when daylight came and we could make our blood circulate by moving about. All of us, except Antonio, hurried off to look for firewood, in search of which we had to go some distance; still the movement did us good, and each brought an armful of wood back, so that we soon had a good fire at which to warm our benumbed hands.
It was very early when we rode off with our buffalo robes over our shoulders: we pulled the large woollen blankets that hung over the saddle across our lap, so as to keep our knees warm, and throwing the bridle on the horse's neck, we put our hands in our jacket-pockets. The whole landscape looked as if sugared, the grass and bushes sparkled in the
sunbeams with their coating of hoar frost, and the rocks completed the wintry scene by the cold blue tinge they had in the shade. This picture, however, passed away very rapidly, and in an hour the rime was hardly to be seen even at the shadiest spots. Our path continually ran upwards, and went up and down from one mountain saddle to another. We saw several bears climbing up the rocks, for in these remote regions they are not very particular as to the mode of going home, and came across a herd of antelopes, some of which we shot. About noon we reached a hollow between two ranges of hills, where we found fresh grass and a stream whose banks were covered with low bushes.
We noticed about a mile to our left at the spot where the stream ran out of a precipitous and very narrow gorge, eight buffaloes quietly grazing, and resolved to hunt them. We left our cattle under Antonio's charge and crept toward the animals. Here my comrades hid themselves in a dry bush overgrown with raspberry creepers that stood nearly at the centre of the opening, and Tiger and I crept up to the buffaloes, which were standing at the highest point of the ravine: we reached some bushes not more than ten yards from the animals without their perceiving us, and lay down on the ground in the midst of them. We had each selected a buffalo, when they stared into our bush with tails erect, as they had probably scented us; we fired together, and at the same moment there was a trampling over us as if a cavalry regiment were charging. I jumped up and fired again at the flying monsters, which now had to run the gauntlet of my comrades' guns. One dropped close to them and a second fell a little farther on, while the rest galloped down the stream. Tiger sprang up too and cut off a buffalo near our bush, which he said was the one I had shot: his had fled with the others. For my part, I had not seen it, for the powder smoke still hung over my rifle, when the brutes charged over us, and we might consider ourselves fortunate that they had not trampled us with their huge feet. We skinned one of them in order to use the skin as a substitute for the one we had lost, although an untanned buffalo hide is a very clumsy thing to carry on pack-animals.
We laid in a stock of the best meat, took all the marrow-bones and tongues, and then followed a very decent path, which here left the main road and went down the stream eastward. After a little while the path trended more to the northern hills, where we saw the smoke of numerous fires rising farther to the north. Tiger said it was lucky we had chosen this road, as on the other we should have ridden right into an Indian camp.
For two days we followed our path and crossed various streams which flowed more to the south, till the low hills became more scattered and the glens between them wider. The vegetation was springing up here, and the good pasturage induced us to grant our cattle some days' rest, as they had been on short commons lately. We selected a very pretty camping-place, where a small stream ran under a precipice and was covered on one side with scrub and a few leafy trees, while on the north and east a rich prairie opened out, and to the west the forest became thicker. We had abundance of game of every description, and many a head bled to death around us, merely for the sake of the fascination which hunting exerts. All had left camp in turn to hunt except Clifton and myself, and the latter asked leave on the second morning to try his luck. It was a fine day and I proposed to accompany him, but stipulated that we should ride. Clifton was delighted, and quickly saddled his iron-grey, a horse of remarkable value, who up to the present had been the least fatigued of all our cattle by the journey.
We rode away from camp and received from our laughing comrades a seasonable hint to take care and not lose ourselves. We rode up the stream, from which a thick wood soon separated us, on whose skirt we had followed the prairie. We had ridden for about an hour, when we noticed a little distance off some wild cattle proceeding toward the wood. Clifton was very eager to kill one of these animals, but I warned him to be most cautious, and reminded him that this was a most dangerous hunt. We rode slowly to the skirt of the wood and reached the spot where the herd had entered it, when Clifton pulled up under a young oak, wound his horse's bridle round a branch, and ran off with his rifle and knelt behind a large plane tree. He had done this almost before I knew what he was about. I rode a few paces farther and saw a large bull grazing with its head turned towards us, but at the same moment Clifton fired. The bullet was hardly out of the rifle ere the bull rushed at him with lowered head, and Clifton, throwing away his gun, took to flight. He reached a young tree and swarmed up it, while the savage brute dashed under his swinging legs and charged the iron-grey, which attempted in vain to tear away its bridle from the branch. In an instant the bull drove its head under the poor horse, and with its monstrous horns tore its entrails out. The horse fell to the ground with a fearful piercing cry, and at the same moment I sent a bullet through the bull's shoulder; it turned and followed me furiously into the prairie, where I fled before it in a wide circle. It became exhausted, stopped, and uttered a furious roar, while hurling up the turf with his horns and stamping on the ground with its feet. I turned Czar a little to the right, kept Trusty back, and sent my second bullet between the bull's shoulders, upon which it sank on one knee and soon rolled over.
I now hurried to Clifton, who was standing with tears in his eyes over his dead horse and repenting his want of caution, but too late. Mourning over this sad loss, we went back to camp on foot and there aroused great sorrow by describing our misfortune. We consulted as to what was now to be done, and there was no choice left but for Clifton to ride the mule, Lizzy, while we divided her load between Jack and Antonio's mare. We sent to the scene of the accident to fetch Clifton's saddle and some meat from the bull, and remained all day in camp in sorrowful mood.
