As Ten-ie-ya was brought into the presence of Capt. Boling by Sergt. Cameron, after this attempt to escape, he supposed that he would now he condemned to be shot. With mingled fear of the uncertainty of his life being spared, and his furious passion at being foiled in his attempt to regain his liberty, he forgot his usual reserve and shrewdness. His grief for the loss of his son and the hatred he entertained toward Capt. Boling, who he considered as responsible for his death, was uppermost in his thoughts, and without any of his taciturn, diplomatic style he burst forth in lamentations and denunciations, given in a loud voice and in a style of language and manner of delivery which took us all by surprise. In his excitement, he made a correct use of many Spanish words, showing that he was more familiar with them than he had ever admitted even to Sandino; but the more emphatic expressions were such as may often be heard used by the muleteers of Mexico and South America, but are not found in the Lexicons. As he approached Capt. Boling, he began in a highly excited tone: “Kill me, sir Captain! Yes, kill me, as you killed my son; as you would kill my people if they were to come to you! You would kill all my race if you had the power. Yes, sir, American, you can now tell your warriors to kill the old chief; you have made me sorrowful, my life dark; you killed the child of my heart, why not kill the father? But wait a little; when I am dead I will call to my people to come to you, I will call louder than you have had me call; that they shall hear me in their sleep, and come to avenge the death of their chief and his son. Yes, sir, American, my spirit will make trouble for you and your people, as you have caused trouble to me and my people. With the wizards, I will follow the white men and make them fear me.” He here aroused himself to a sublime frenzy, and completed his rhapsody by saying: “You may kill me, sir, Captain, but you shall not live in peace. I will follow in your foot-steps, I will not leave my home, but be with the spirits among the rocks, the water-falls, in the rivers and in the winds; wheresoever you go I will be with you. You will not see me, but you will fear the spirit of the old chief, and grow cold.[13] The great spirits have spoken! I am done.”
Captain Boling allowed the old orator to finish his talk without interruption. Although he did not fully understand him, he was amused at his earnest style and impetuous gestures. On hearing it interpreted, he humorously replied: “I comprehended the most of what he said. The old chief has improved. If he was only reliable he would make a better interpreter than Sandino. As for speech-making, Doc., I throw up. The old Pow-wow can beat me all hollow.” Ten-ie-ya earnestly watched the countenance of the good natured Captain, as if to learn his decision in the matter. The Captain observing him, quietly said: “Sergeant Cameron! the old sachem looks hungry, and as it is now about supper time, you had better give him an extra ration or two, and then see that he is so secured that he will not have a chance to escape from us again.”
I watched the old incorrigible while he was delivering this eloquent harangue (which, of course, is necessarily a free translation) with considerable curiosity. Under the excitement of the moment he appeared many years younger. With his vigorous old age he displayed a latent power which was before unknown to us. I began to feel a sort of veneration for him. My sympathies had before been aroused for his sorrow, and I now began to have almost a genuine respect for him; but as I passed him half an hour afterwards, the poetry of his life appeared changed. He was regaling himself on fat pork and beans from a wooden dish which had been brought to him by order of Cameron. This he seemed to enjoy with an appetite of a hungry animal. His guard had provided his wooden bowl and ladle by chipping them out of an alder tree, but failing to finish them smoothly, they could not be properly washed; but this fact seemed not to disturb his relish for the food. As I looked at his enjoyment of the loaded dish, I now saw only a dirty old Indian. The spiritual man had disappeared. I addressed him in Spanish, but not a word of reply; instead he pointed to his ear, thereby indicating that he was deaf to the language. Afterwards he even repudiated his “Medicineship.”
CHAPTER XII.
Bears and Other Game—Sickness of Captain Boling—Convalescence and Determination—A Guess at Heights—A Tired Doctor and a Used-up Captain—Surprising an Indian—Know-nothingness, or Native Americanism—A Clue and Discovery—A Short-cut to Camp, but an Unpopular Route.
Considerable hilarity has been exhibited by modern visitors when told that the Yosemite and its environs were once the favorite resort of the grizzly bear. After these visitors have returned to New York or Boston, they tell the public not to be afraid of bears, as they were quite harmless; rather inclined to become domestic, etc. That is well enough now, perhaps, although grizzlies may yet be found; but at the date of the discovery; their trails were as large and numerous, almost, as cow-paths in a western settlement. Several bears were seen by us, and one was killed. The Yo-sem-i-tes used to capture these monsters by lying in wait for them on some rock or in some tree that commanded their thoroughfare, and after the bear had been wounded, all the dogs in the village were turned loose upon him. After being brought to bay, he was dispatched with arrows or the spear. A medium sized terrier or two will so annoy a large grizzly, keeping out of his way in the meantime, that he is apt to become stubborn and stand his ground.
In such cases, there is less danger to the hunter. I have known of two being killed in this way at short range. The approach of the hunter was disregarded by the bear. Their hams had been so bitten by the dogs that they dared not run, for fear of a fresh attack. I killed a large one as he came out of the Merced river, a little above where the town of Merced has since been built, and the same day, being in a whale-boat, I had to back from an old she-bear and her two cubs, encountered in a short turn of the river. I tried to kill these also, but my rifle had got soaked in the rain that was pouring at the time; as for the pistol shots, fired by some of the oarsmen, they only seemed to increase her speed, and that of her cubs, as they reached the shore and plunged through the willows. I had, previous to the killing of the grizzly, killed a large black bear with a rifle of small calibre, and gaining confidence, I attacked the grizzly, and was fortunate in cutting a renal-artery, from which the bear soon bled to death; but upon viewing the huge monster, I fully realized the folly of an open attack upon this kind of game, and ever afterwards, so far as I could, when alone, avoided their noted haunts. With all my caution and dread of an unexpected encounter with them, I met several face to face during mountain explorations; but invariably, they seemed as anxious to get away from me as I was that they should do so. Once while manœuvering to get a shot at a deer, a grizzly came out in full view but a few yards in advance of me. I was tempted to give him a shot, but as I had no refuge of dog or tree, if I made a poor shot, and knowing that I was not seen by the bear, I did not molest him, but felt relieved as he entered a chinquepin thicket, and if there had been fifty of them, no doubt they might have all gone without my saying a word.
I have seen a good deal of nonsense in print about bears, but will venture to give these incidents. Joel H. Brooks and John Kenzie, ex-members of “The Battalion,” were the least susceptible to fear of them, of any persons I ever knew. Their skill as marksmen, was something wonderful. They used to go through a drill on foot, firing at some imaginary grizzly, then with a representative shot, the bear was wounded, and pursuing them; they would turn and flee, loading their rifles as they ran, and then turn and fire with deliberation at the imaginary bear in pursuit.
This theory of bear hunting, they determined to put into practice, and after the close of the Indian war, and the disbanding of the battalion, they established themselves in a camp near the Tehon Pass, a locality even more famous for bears than the Yosemite. They were successful, killed a number, and were daily acquiring more confidence in the practicability of their theory and plans of attack; when one day, while Kenzie was out hunting by himself, he unexpectedly met a huge grizzly face to face; both were for a moment startled.