Next day we passed along a part of the route by which some years ago a numerous body of eastern Indians, having given up their lands to the United States on condition of receiving other equally good lands in the West, were conducted by the parties who had engaged to provide for them on their journey. Numerous square holes cut in the fallen trees showed where the squaws had pounded their maize to make bread. More melancholy traces were visible in the bones of human beings and animals which were strewed about. Many a warrior and squaw died on the road from exhaustion, and the maladies engendered by their treatment; and their relations and friends could do nothing more for them than fold them in their blankets, and cover them with boughs and bushes, to keep off the vultures, which followed their route by thousands, and soared over their heads; for their drivers would not give them time to dig a grave and bury their dead. The wolves, which also followed at no great distance, soon tore away so frail a covering, and scattered the bones in all directions. This is a sad instance of the abominable haggling spirit so prevalent in America. The government, to avoid trouble, had contracted with individuals for a certain sum, which was quite sufficient to have conveyed the poor Indians comfortably; but they were obliged to part with all they had for bread, selling their rifles and tomahawks, horses going for two and three dollars; and, while they died of hunger and distress, the contractors made a fortune.
About three in the afternoon we reached the Ozark mountains, and passed close by some farm buildings where there were several tame white turkeys. My dog, who was a capital fellow for turkeys, had as yet never seen any but wild, consequently black ones. He gave a side glance or two at them, and then passed on without further notice, until one crossed the road, and he came on the fresh trail, which he followed on the instant; but when he got close to the white bird, he kept first looking at the one, and then smelling at the other, as much as to say, “They don’t agree,” while the turkey walked off with long strides, turning his head from side to side to examine the stranger who was so close at his heels, and whose intentions he rather seemed to doubt. I called off the dog, and we stepped out at a good pace up a narrow ravine by the banks of a mountain stream. Narrow as the ravine was, we found houses in places where no one, at least no reasonable being, could ever have supposed they would have been erected, there being so little arable land near. One place particularly amused me—a turnip field, about sixty paces square, from one corner of which I saw smoke rising. As there was no trace of a building or of a human being to be seen, I was anxious to discover where the smoke came from, and on reaching the corner of the field, I found myself looking straight down a chimney. The house was built in a little hollow in the rock, probably to avoid encroaching on any part of the useful ground. But what could induce people to settle in such a hole, when so much good land was to be had in Arkansas, was more than I could divine.
We now turned to the left, and crossed the first spur towards the summit of the hills that divide the Mulberry from the Arkansas. The ascent was rather steep, but we surmounted it without mishap, and were rewarded with a beautiful view over the country we had passed. While I was seated on a high piece of rock, contemplating the prospect, Slowtrap rolled a large stone to the edge of the declivity; then pushing it over, he set the dogs after it—these hearing the noise, flew in wild haste down the steep. The stone at first moved slowly, but as it gathered way in its descent, it made bounds of twenty and thirty feet, broke off young trees, and went thundering to the bottom in clouds of dust, the dogs still in chase. I did not much like it, fearing they might break their legs or necks. Bearsgrease came back first, crouching and wagging his tail, as if he knew that he had committed an egregious folly. The others returned later, puffing and snorting. S. seemed to have been much amused: he sat comfortably on a rock, with his bridle on his left arm, and looked on without moving a muscle of his countenance.
We had a long march before us. It was ten miles to the nearest house, and we had nothing eatable left, either for ourselves or the horse; it was moreover getting dark. S. said we must keep on the hill for six or seven miles, and then turn down towards the Mulberry to the house.
It grew darker and darker. A narrow unfrequented footpath covered with yellow leaves was our only guide, which I followed up with undivided attention, Slowtrap riding slowly after me. A thin penetrating rain set in with the night; yet, indefatigably, and with my nose nearly on the ground, I kept to the almost invisible path, till about ten o’clock, when I stopped, and told Slowtrap that either the path ended here, or I had missed it; which of the two was the case I could not say. Slowtrap, who had followed patiently without speaking a word, asked if I thought I could find the trail again on retracing my steps. The weather was not favorable for conversation; I shouldered my rifle, went some way back, made a circle, and found a strip of darker ground amongst the leaves. I called out, and my companion came, leading his horse, and said that I might ride, and he would follow up the path, as his eyes were more accustomed to forest work than mine. Tired with the long day’s march, I was not sorry for this, and was soon in the saddle, while Slowtrap, stooping low, preceded me about two hundred paces; but he came to a stand where I had stopped, and said the path ended there. We could not be far from the descent to the Mulberry, for the trees were thinner, and Slowtrap said that if it were not so dark, we might be able to see the whole of its valley. At present nothing was to be seen but our miserable plight.
It is dangerous to lose one’s way in these hills, as precipices occur where least suspected. The rain now fell in torrents, and we were as wet as drowned rats. At length we decided on descending the hill straight before us, lead where it would. It was steep and slippery, and although we led the horse, we were often in danger of falling into one of the steep ravines; we passed so near one that we heard the stones fall to the bottom as they were kicked away by the horse’s feet.
It may have been about eleven o’clock when the dogs gave the first signs of life, by a growl and a low bark. Then the oldest of them, a good old fellow, covered with honorable scars, gave a short howl. It was answered by several dogs in the distance; this inspired us with fresh courage, and we hastened down the hill towards the sound. When the strange dogs left off barking, we easily excited them again by imitating the howl of a wolf. We gained at once the foot of the hill and a mountain stream, and came to a small house, from whence we had heard the bark of the dogs. We entered and obtained shelter, but no hearty welcome.
Next morning, as we were not very well pleased with our host, who did not care about us, and fearing that the rivers we had to cross might swell with rain—an event which soon occurs in the mountains—we left at daylight, and proceeded to a farmer’s, named Davis, about half a mile off on the other side of the river; here we were received kindly and hospitably.
Mr. Davis would by no means allow us to proceed, as it had poured with rain the whole night, and all the brooks were rushing torrents; so, taking charge of our things, he made us sit by the fire, and seemed highly gratified at the pleasure its warmth afforded us. His family were very agreeable, and I was quite sorry to part with them so soon as the next morning; but by that time the waters fell, and Slowtrap was in a hurry to get on. However, it was hard work to get through some of the rivers, especially as we had but one horse. Luckily my companion knew the country too well to expose us to the chance of sleeping again in the forest, and this evening, wet, tired, and half frozen, we arrived at the abode of an old squatter.
This day we had crossed the main range of the “Boston divide,” which parts the waters of the Mulberry from the White river, and found ourselves on the latter, which, here, we could leap across, though further down it is navigated by steamers. The country and vegetation differed considerably from that south of the Arkansas. There was no trace of fir; the mountains were covered with oak, beech, and hickory, all at this season without leaves, which, to an eye accustomed to green hollows, seemed rather mournful and monotonous. It struck me as extraordinary that the best and most fertile land was on the hill tops, where, in other places it is generally the worst; here grew black walnut, wild cherry, with stems sometimes twenty inches in diameter, black locust, and sugar maple, trees which generally grow only in the richest soils. The black locust was very frequent, and its long sharp thorns are by no means pleasant on a journey.