It was the twenty-eighth day of December before every objection to their guiding us was obviated, and, although neither of them had been relieved from the fear of Osage hostility, they mounted their horses in the morning, and announced themselves ready to proceed. Our course now lay toward the north-west, and the weather was still mild and favorable. We ascended through the heavily-timbered bottom-lands of the valley for a mile or two, and then passed by an easy route through the valley cliffs, to the prairie uplands north of them. After getting fairly out of the gorge we had followed, we entered on a rolling highland prairie, with some clumps of small forest trees, and covered, as far as the eye could reach, with coarse wild grass, and the seed-pods of autumnal flowers, nodding in the breeze. It was a waving surface. Sometimes the elevations assumed a conical shape. Sometimes we crossed a depression with trees. Often the deer bounded before us, and frequently the sharp crack of the rifle was the first intimation to me that game was near. Holt told me that the error of the young or inexperienced hunters was in looking too far for their game. The plan to hunt successfully was, to raise the eye slowly from the spot just before you, for the game is often close by, and not to set it on distant objects at first. We moved on leisurely, with eyes and ears alert for every sight and sound. A bird, a quadruped, a track—these were important themes.
When night approached, we encamped near the foot of an eminence, called, from its appearance, the Bald Hill. An incident occurred early in our march, which gave us no little concern. A fine young horse of one of the neighboring hunters, which had been turned out to range, followed our track from White river valley, and, notwithstanding all the efforts of our guides, could not be driven back. At length they fired the dry prairie-grass behind us, the wind serving, deeming this the most effectual way of driving him back. The expedient did not, however, prove eventually successful; for, after a while, the animal again made his appearance. We lost some time in these efforts. It was thought better, at length, that I should ride him, which was accomplished by placing a deerskin upon his back by way of saddle, with a kind of bridle, &c. The animal was spirited, and, thus mounted, I kept up with the foremost.
We travelled to-day about ten miles. The day was clear, but chilly, with a north-westerly wind, which we had to face. Holt had killed a young doe during the day, which was quickly skinned, and he took along the choice parts of it for our evening's repast. Part of the carcase was left behind as wolf's-meat.
Dec. 29th. Little change appeared in the country. For about six miles we travelled over hill and dale, meeting nothing new, but constantly expecting something. We then descended into the valley of Swan creek—a clear stream of thirty yards wide, a tributary of White river. Its banks present a rich alluvial bottom, well wooded with maple, hickory, ash, hag-berry, elm, and sycamore. We followed up this valley about five miles, when it commenced raining, and we were compelled to encamp. Protection from the rain, however, was impossible. We gained some little shelter under the broad roots of a clump of fallen trees and limbs, and passed a most comfortless night, being wet, and without a fire.
The next morning, (Dec. 30th,) at the earliest dawn, we were in motion. After ascending the Swan creek valley about nine miles, through a most fertile tract, we fell into the Osage trail, a well-beaten horse-path, and passed successively three of their deserted camps, which had apparently been unoccupied for a month or more. The poles and frames of each lodge were left standing, and made a most formidable show. The paths, hacked trees, and old stumps of firebrands, showed that they had been deserted in the fall. The fear of this tribe now appeared to have left the minds of our guides. These encampments were all very large, and could probably each have accommodated several hundred persons.
The form of the Osage lodge may be compared to a hemisphere, or an inverted bird's-nest, with a small aperture left in the top for the escape of smoke, and an elongated opening at the side, by way of door, to pass and repass. It is constructed by cutting a number of flexible green poles, sharpened at one end, and stuck firmly in the ground. The corresponding tops are then bent over and tied, and the framework covered with linden bark. These wigwams are arranged in circles, one line of lodges within another. In the centre is a scaffolding for meat. The chief's tent is conspicuously situated at the head of each encampment. It is different from the rest, resembling an inverted half cylinder. The whole is arranged with much order and neatness, and evinces that they move in large parties, that the chiefs exercise a good deal of authority.
The Osages are a tribe who have from early times been prominent in the south-west, between the Arkansas and Missouri. The term Osage is of French origin; it seems to be a translation of the Algonquin term Assengigun, or Bone Indians. Why? They call themselves Was-ba-shaw, and have a curious allegory of their having originated from a beaver and a snail. They are divided into two bands, the Little and Great Osages, the latter of whom make their permanent encampments on the river Osage of the Missouri. The Ozarks appear from early days to have been their hunting-grounds for the valuable furred animals, and its deep glens and gorges have served as nurseries for the bear. They are one of the great prairie stock of tribes, who call God Wacondah. They are physically a fine tribe of men, of good stature and courage, but have had the reputation, among white and red men, of being thieves and plunderers. Certainly, among the hunter population of this quarter, they are regarded as little short of ogres and giants; and they tell most extravagant tales of their doings. Luckily, it was so late in the season that we were not likely to encounter many of them.
In searching the precincts of the old camps, my guides pointed out a place where the Indians had formerly pinioned down Teen Friend, one of the most successful of the white trappers in this quarter, whom they had found trapping their beaver in the Swan creek valley. I thought it was an evidence of some restraining fear of our authorities at St. Louis, that they had not taken the enterprising old fellow's scalp, as well as his beaver packs.
Life in the wilderness is dependent on contingencies, which are equally hard to be foreseen or controlled. We are, at all events, clearly out of the jurisdiction of a justice of the peace. And the maxim that we have carefully conned over in childhood, "No man may put off the law of God," is but a feeble reliance when urged against the Osages or Pawnees.
Deeming themselves now high enough up the Swan creek valley, my guides determined to leave it, and turned their horses' heads up a gorge that led to the open plains. We now steered our course north-west, over an elevated plain, or prairie, covered, as usual, with ripe grass. We followed across this tract for about twenty miles, with no general deviation of our course, but without finding water. In search of this, we pushed on vigorously till night set in, when it became intensely dark, and we were in danger of being precipitated, at every step, into some hole, or down some precipice. Darkness, in a prairie, places the traveller in the position of a ship at sea, without a compass; to go on, or to stop, seems equally perilous. For some two hours we groped our way in this manner, when one of the guides shouted that he had found a standing pool. Meantime, it had become excessively dark. The atmosphere was clouded over, and threatened rain. On reaching the pool, there was no wood to be found, and we were compelled to encamp without a fire, and laid down supperless, tired, and cold.