Nov. 20th. We found the stream made up entirely of pure springs, gushing from the gravel, or rocks. Nothing can exceed the crystal purity of its waters. These springs are often very large. We came to one, in the course of this day, which we judged to be fifty feet wide. It rushes out of an aperture in the rock, and joins the main branch of the river about six hundred yards below, in a volume quite equal to that of the main fork. I found an enormous pair of elk's horns lying on one side of the spring, which I lifted up and hung in the forks of a young oak, and from this incident named it the Elkhorn Spring.
In forcing my way through the rank vines, weeds, and brush, which encumber the valley below this point, I lost my small farrier's hammer from my belt; a loss which was irreparable, as it was the only means we had of setting a shoe on our horse, and had also served on ordinary occasions as a mineral-hammer, instead of the heavier implement in the pack.
We often disturbed the black bear from his lair in the thick canebrakes, but travelled with too much noise to overtake him. The deer frequently bounded across the valley, while turkey, squirrel, duck, and smaller game, were also abundant.
Nov. 21st. The bottom-lands continued to improve in extent and fertility as we descended. The stream, as it wears its way into deeper levels of the stratification of the country, presents, on either side, high cliffs of rock. These cliffs, which consist of horizontal limestone, resting on sandstone, frequently present prominent pinnacles, resembling ruinous castellated walls. In some places they rise to an astonishing height, and they are uniformly crowned with yellow pines. A remarkable formation of this description appeared to-day, at the entrance of a tributary stream through these walled cliffs, on the left bank, which I called Tower Creek; it impressed one with the idea of the high walls of a ruined battlement.
The purity and transparency of the water are so remarkable, that it is often difficult to estimate its depth in the river. A striking instance of this occurred after passing this point. I was leading the horse. In crossing from the east to the west bank, I had led Butcher to a spot which I thought he could easily ford, without reaching above his knees. He plunged in, however, over his depth, and, swimming across with his pack, came to elevated shores on the other side, which kept him so long in the water, and we were detained so long in searching for a suitable point for him to mount, that almost everything of a soluble character in his pack was either lost or damaged. Our salt and sugar were mostly spoiled; our tea and Indian meal damaged; our skins, blankets, and clothing, saturated. This mishap caused us a world of trouble. Though early in the day, we at once encamped. I immediately built a fire, the horse was speedily unpacked, and each particular article was examined, and such as permitted it, carefully dried. This labor occupied us till a late hour in the night.
Nov. 22d. Up to this point we had seen no Osages, of whose predatory acts we had heard so much at Potosi, and on the sources of the Maramec; nor any signs of their having been in this section of the country during a twelvemonth, certainly not since spring. All the deserted camps, and the evidences of encampment, were old. The bones of animals eaten, found on the high plains east of Calamarca, and at the Elkhorn spring, were bleached and dry. Not a vestige had appeared, since leaving the Wall-cliffs, of a human being having recently visited the country. The silence and desolateness of the wilderness reigned around. And when we looked for evidences of an ancient permanent occupation of the region by man, there were none—not a hillock raised by human hands, nor the smallest object that could be deemed antiquarian. The only evidences of ancient action were those of a geological kind—caverns, valleys of denudation, beds of drift, boulders, water-lines and markings on the faces of cliffs, which betokened oceanic overflow at very antique or primary periods.
The difficulties attending our progress down the valley, induced us to strike out into the open prairie, where travelling was free, and unimpeded by shrubbery or vines. Nothing but illimitable fields of grass, with clumps of trees here and there, met the eye. We travelled steadily, without diverging to the right or left. We sometimes disturbed covies of prairie birds; the rabbit started from his sheltering bush, or the deer enlivened the prospect. We had laid our course south-south-west, and travelled about twenty miles. As evening approached, we searched in vain for water, to encamp. In quest of it, we finally entered a desolate gorge, which seemed, at some seasons, to have been traversed by floods, as it disclosed boulders and piles of rubbish. Daylight departed as we wound our way down this dry gorge, which was found to be flanked, as we descended, with towering cliffs. In the meantime, the heavens became overcast with dense black clouds, and rain soon began to fall. We scanned these lofty cliffs closely, as we were in a cavernous limestone country, for evidences of some practicable opening which might give us shelter for the night. At length, after daylight had gone, the dark mouth of a large cavern appeared on our left, at some twenty or thirty feet elevation. The horse could not be led up this steep, but, by unpacking him, we carried the baggage up, and then hobbled and belled the poor beast, and left him to pick a meal as best he could in this desolate valley. It was the best, and indeed the only thing, we could do for him.
It was not long before I had a fire in the cave, which threw its red rays upon the outlines of the cavern, in a manner which would have formed a study for Michael Angelo. It seemed that internal waters had flowed out of this cavern for ages, carrying particle by particle of the yielding rock, by which vast masses had been scooped out, or hung still in threatening pendants. Its width was some forty feet, its height perhaps double that space, and its depth illimitable. A small stream of pure water glided along its bottom, and went trickling down the cliff.
The accident in crossing the stream had saturated, but not ruined our tea; and we soon had an infusion of it, to accompany our evening's frugal repast—for frugal indeed it became, in meats and bread, after our irreparable loss of the day previous. Nothing is more refreshing than a draught of tea in the wilderness, and one soon experiences that this effect is due neither to milk nor sugar. The next thing to be done after supper, was to light a torch and explore the recesses of the cave, lest it should be occupied by some carnivorous beasts, who might fancy a sleeping traveller for a night's meal. Sallying into its dark recesses, gun and torch in hand, we passed up a steep ascent, which made it difficult to keep our feet. This passage, at first, turned to the right, then narrowed, and finally terminated in a low gallery, growing smaller and smaller towards its apparent close. This passage became too low to admit walking, but by the light of our torch, which threw its rays far into its recesses, there appeared no possibility of our proceeding further. We then retraced our steps to our fire in the front of the cave, where there were evidences of Indian camp-fires. We then replenished our fire with fuel, and spread down our pallets for the night. My companion soon adjusted himself in a concave part of the rock, and went to sleep. I looked out from the front of the cave to endeavor to see the horse; but although I caught a sound of his bell, nothing could be seen but intense darkness. The rain had been slight, and had abated; but the cliffs in front, and the clouds above the narrow valley, rendered it impossible to see anything beyond the reach of the flickering rays of our fire. To its precincts I returned, and entered up my journal of the events of the day. Our situation, and the peculiarities of the scenery around us, led me to reflect on that mysterious fate which, in every hazard, attends human actions, and, by the light of the fire, I pencilled the annexed lines, and clapt down the cavern in my journal as the Cave of Tula.[6]
LINES WRITTEN IN A CAVE IN THE WILDERNESS OF ARKANSAS.