James's Account of S. H. Long's Expedition, 1819-1820, part 3

by Edwin James; Stephen H. Long; Thomas Say

A ride of a few miles in a direction passing obliquely from the river, brought us to a point which overlooked a large extent of the surrounding country. From this we could distinguish the winding course of a small stream, uniting numerous tributaries from the ridge we occupied, and pursuing its course towards the south-east, along a narrow and well-wooded valley. The dense and verdant foliage of the poplars and elms contrasted strongly with the bright red of the sandstone cliffs, which rose on both sides, far surpassing the elevation of the tallest trees, and disclosing here and there masses of sulphate of lime of a snowy whiteness.[68] Looking back upon the broad valley of the river we had left, the eye rested upon insulated portions of the sandy bed disclosed by the inflections of its course or the opening of ravines, and resembling pools of blood, rather than wastes of sand. We had been so long accustomed to the red sands, that the intensity of the colouring ceased to excite any attention until a distant view afforded us the opportunity of contrasting it with the general aspect of the country.

The elevated plains we found covered with a plenteous but close-fed crop of grasses, and occupied by extensive marmot villages. The red soil is usually fine and little intermixed with gravel and pebbles, but too sandy to retain moisture enough for the purposes of agriculture. The luxuriance and fineness of the grasses, as well as the astonishing number and good condition of the herbivorous animals of this region, clearly indicate its value for the purposes of pasturage. There can be little doubt that more valuable and productive grasses than the native species can with little trouble be introduced. This may easily be effected by burning the prairies at a proper season of the year, and sowing the seeds [324] of any of the more hardy cultivated gramina. Some of the perennial plants common in the prairies will undoubtedly be found difficult to exterminate, their strong roots penetrating to a great depth and enveloping the rudiments of new shoots placed beyond the reach of a fire on the surface. The soil of the more fertile plains is penetrated with such numbers of these as to present more resistance to the plough than the oldest cultivated pastures.

We had continued our march until near sunset, expecting constantly to come in view of the river, which we were persuaded must soon make a great bend to the south, but perceiving the night would overtake us in the plains, we began to search for a place to encamp. The bison paths in this country are as frequent and almost as conspicuous as the roads in the most populous parts of the United States. These converge from all directions to the places where water is to be found, and by following their guidance we were soon led to a spot where was found a small spring dripping from the side of a cliff of sandstone. The water collected in a little basin at the foot of the cliff, and flowing a few rods down a narrow ravine, disappeared in the sand. Having established our camp, we travelled down this ravine, searching for plants, while any daylight remained. The rocks were beautifully exposed, but exhibited no appearance unlike what we had been accustomed to see along the river—the red indistinctly stratified sand-rock, spotted and veined with plaster-stone and selenite. About the shelvings and crevices of the rocks, the slender corolla of the œnothera macrocarpa, and the purple blossoms of the pentstemon bradburis, lay withering together, while the fading leaves and the ripening fruit seemed to proclaim the summer near its end.

On the morning following we resumed our march, altering our course from S. E. to N. E. The want of water in the hills compelled us again to seek the river. Falling in with a large bison path, which we [325] knew would conduct us by the easiest and most direct route, we travelled about fifteen miles, and encamped at noon on the bank of the river. In returning to the low grounds, we passed some grassy pastures, carpeted with the densest and finest verdure, and sprinkled with herds of deer, antelopes, and bisons. In some places the ground was covered with a purple mat of the aculeate leaves and branches of a procumbent eryngo; here rose the tall and graceful head of the centaurea speciosa,[69] there, in more retiring beauty, crept a humble dalea, or an ascending petalostemum.

As we approached the river, we discovered a fine herd of bisons, in the grove where we intended to place our camp, some lying down in the shade, others standing in the pool of water, which extended along under the bank. Dismounting from our horses, and approaching under cover of the bushes, we shot two of the fattest, but before we had time to reload our pieces, after the second fire, we perceived a bull running towards us, evidently with the design to make battle; we, however, gave him the slip, by escaping into the thick bushes, and he turned off to follow the retiring herd.

It is only in the seasons of their loves, that any danger is to be apprehended from the strength and ferocity of the bison. At all other times, whether wounded or not, their efforts are to the last directed solely towards an escape from their pursuers; and at this time it does not appear that their rage is provoked, particularly by an attack upon themselves, but their unusual intrepidity is directed indiscriminately against all suspicious intruders.

We had now for some days been excessively annoyed with large swarms of blowing-flies, which had prevented our carrying fresh game along with us for more than a single day. It had been our custom at meals, to place our boiled or roasted bison-meat on the grass or the broken boughs of a tree, in the middle [326] of our circle; but this practice we now found it inexpedient to continue, as, before we could finish our repast, our table often became white with the eggs deposited by these flies. We were commonly induced to dispense with our roast meats, unless we chose to superintend the cooking ourselves, and afterwards to devote the exertions of one hand to keep away the flies, while with the other we helped ourselves to what we wished to eat. Our more common practice was to confine ourselves to the single dish of hunter's soup, suffering the meat to remain immersed in the kettle until we were ready to transfer it to our mouths.

Gnats had been rather frequent, and we began to feel once more the persecutions of the ticks, the most tormenting of the insects of this country.

The little pool near our tent afforded all the water that could be found within a very considerable distance. The bisons came in from every direction to drink, and we almost regretted that our presence frighted away the suffering animals with their thirst unslaked.

August 21st. The day was warm and somewhat rainy. Soon after leaving our camp we saw three black bears, and killed one of them. This is the first animal of the kind we have eaten since we left the Missouri; and the flesh, though now not in the best condition, we found deserving the high encomiums commonly lavished upon it. Experienced hunters prefer it to the bison, and indeed to almost every thing except the tail of the beaver.