A Tour on the Prairies
When wagon trains reached Independence, Missouri, and prepared to jump off for the Far West, they faced some six hundred miles of prairie before reaching the mountains. There was water, grass, and game (especially buffalo) in abundance, but it was an awesome spectacle to travel week after week across the empty plains. When Washington Irving returned from many years in Europe, he wanted to see the prairie and joined an expedition in 1832 which traveled as far west as the present site of Oklahoma City. One of his companions was Henry Ellsworth, a commissioner appointed by Andrew Jackson to help pacify the Indians. In the selection that follows, Ellsworth describes the prairie in central Oklahoma, tells how one of his men captured a wild horse, and recounts his own experience in shooting a buffalo.
Henry Ellsworth Accompanies Washington Irving Across the Plains
The country today is truly delightful. The prairies are smooth, the streams frequent, and meandering so as to present a vigorous growth of stately trees on every side. The flowers of spring have disappeared and left the numerous stalks covered with seeds as mementoes of vernal fragrance, but the autumnal blossoms mixed with the prairie grass never fail to attract the eye with delight, or refresh the lungs by their sweet odours. My late travelling companion, Dr. O’Dwyer, says Eden was here and not on the Euphrates: “Adam’s paradise was in these prairies!”
Mr. Irving said often today that the most splendid parks in England did not surpass the beautiful scenery around us, and yet between both there was such a striking resemblance as to recall to his mind at once the delightful rambles he had in Europe where art had been lavish in her favors to enhance the beauties of nature. I can say also, though my residence in Europe was short, that I beheld no scenery there so truly beautiful and grand as the rich prairies of the West. And if the prairies now are so charming, what must they be decked with the variegated plumage of spring?...
I ought perhaps to mention the woods on these parks afforded excellent varieties of fruits. The season now was too late for most of them—the persimmon, haws, and winter grape were very abundant.
Our ride was made more cheering by the fresh signs of buffalo. Not the short grass but tracks and recent dung (resembling entirely that of our oxen and cows) assured us we should soon meet these terrific animals. Excavations in the ground showed where they indulged in their great pastime, in wallowing. The excavations are generally about 10 feet in diameter and 12 to 20 inches deep. It is these hollows, especially when filled with water, that make the chase, as I found it afterwards, so difficult and dangerous. The trees also furnish their evidence and every low limb was worn by the buffalo while scratching his skin after coming out of his mud or sand bath.
As soon as we had arrived at camp this evening, Billet requested the privilege to hunt a while, and mounting his horse with lariat and gun, cantered off, and was soon out of sight. The firing on all sides assured us we should have plenty of game, and the hunters soon returned loaded with deer, turkeys, etc. It was not until after supper that Billet came to our camp quite out of breath and asked for help to bring in a wild horse he had just caught the other side of Red Fork. He had brought him through the river, but got him no farther....
The horse was soon brought in, trembling at the sight of so many new things. He was between two and three years old, well made, and will doubtless make an excellent horse. The horse struggled for a while against Billet’s mode of civilization and fell exhausted in the struggle. He panted and lay as submissive as a lamb. Twenty or thirty handled him from head to foot without any offer on his part to make resistance. He gave up the contest and submitted unconditionally and never afterwards was more disobedient than colts in general, nor indeed as much.... Tomorrow Billet said he should pack him with a saddle and make him do his share of work. We did not believe it possible and waited with curiosity to see the experiment. [He succeeded. Eds.]
Billet is an adventuresome as well as brave man. He has had both arms and one leg broken during exploits besides having his ribs on one side mashed in. He told us when he saw the horses they were distant from him. He stopped, laid down his gun, adjusted his saddle, and with lariat in hand he put spurs to his race horse, whose speed I never saw excelled. The wild horses stood amazed for a moment, then started and fled. They ran up a small hill and descending again were for a moment out of sight. When Billet came to the brow, he was frightened: a precipice was before him which he must leap or lose his prize. He chose the former, shut his eyes, and strained upon the reins and safely landed upon the bottom—a leap of 25 feet. His horse, accustomed to the race, soon recovered from the shock and continued pursuit. The race now continued for 1½ miles. He then reached the horses, and having failed in his first effort to take a Pawnee mare (with a slit in her ears) he put his lariat over the head of the horse brought to the camp. It was truly a great exploit....
No sooner had I reined my horse towards the buffalo (notwithstanding he had been racing several hours and was then wet with perspiration) than he pricked up his ears and entered into a full run. I never went half so fast before or mean to again. I ran a quarter of a mile before [the] buffalo apprehended danger. They then began to make the best of their way to the west. Billet called out: “Remember the holes; let him run; let him run.” After running 1½ miles with gun in hand, almost tired to death and shook not a little, I came along side of the animal I had selected. He appeared a monster, for his weight was 1600. I fired. Billet said: “Take care; he will be upon you.” The animal now began to throw blood from his mouth and nose, which satisfied me I had reached his heart. He stopped. I fired again. Both balls entered just back of his fore shoulder. He now came towards me with his tongue extended and his round full eye darting vengeance. My horse parried his movements, and I fired my rifle pistol and then seized the remaining one. At this moment the buffalo fell, exhausted with the loss of blood, and stretching out his legs died before I could get to him.... Billet performed the operation of cutting out his tongue, by opening the flesh on the under jaw and through this aperture taking the tongue, which I tied to my saddle and reached the camp a little after sunset.
The Indians
Ever since James Fenimore Cooper made use of frontier life in his novels, the Indian has been romanticized in fiction as the noble savage. But Cooper’s Indians did not bear much resemblance to the real Indians who were, after all, savages living in a primitive environment. A good observer of Indians as they actually were was the eminent historian Francis Parkman, who spent the summer of 1846 traveling as far as Wyoming on the Oregon Trail. Here is his account of one of the tribes living on the plains:
Henry Ellsworth Accompanies Washington Irving Across the Plains
When we came in sight of our little white tent under the big tree, we saw that it no longer stood alone. A huge old lodge was erected by its side, discolored by rain and storms, rotten with age, with the uncouth figures of horses and men and outstretched hands that were painted upon it, well nigh obliterated. The long poles which supported this squalid habitation thrust themselves rakishly out from its pointed top, and over its entrance were suspended a “medicine-pipe” and various other implements of the magic art. While we were yet at a distance, we observed a greatly increased population of various colors and dimensions, swarming about our quiet encampment.
Morin, the trapper, having been absent for a day or two, had returned, it seemed, bringing all his family with him. He had taken to himself a wife, for whom he had paid the established price of one horse. This looks cheap at first sight, but in truth the purchase of a squaw is a transaction which no man should enter into without mature deliberation, since it involves not only the payment of the price, but the burden of feeding and supporting a rapacious horde of the bride’s relatives, who hold themselves entitled to feed upon the indiscreet white man. They gather about him like leeches, and drain him of all he has....
The moving spirit of the establishment was an old hag of eighty. Human imagination never conceived hob-goblin or witch more ugly than she. You could count all her ribs through the wrinkles of her leathery skin. Her withered face more resembled an old skull than the countenance of a living being, even to the hollow, darkened sockets, at the bottom of which glittered her little black eyes. Her arms had dwindled into nothing but whip-cord and wire. Her hair, half black, half gray, hung in total neglect nearly to the ground, and her sole garment consisted of the remnant of a discarded buffalo-robe tied around her waist with a string of hide.
Yet the old squaw’s meagre anatomy was wonderfully strong. She pitched the lodge, packed the horses, and did the hardest labor of the camp. From morning till night she bustled about the lodge, screaming like a screech-owl when anything displeased her. Her brother, a “medicine-man,” or magician, was equally gaunt and sinewy with herself. His mouth spread from ear to ear, and his appetite, as we had occasion to learn, was ravenous in proportion....
A day passed, and Indians began rapidly to come in. Parties of two, three, or more would ride up and silently seat themselves on the grass. The fourth day came at last, when about noon horsemen appeared in view on the summit of the neighboring ridge. Behind followed a wild procession, hurrying in haste and disorder down the hill and over the plain below; horses, mules, and dogs; heavily burdened traineaux [sleds], mounted warriors, squaws walking amid the throng, and a host of children. For a full half-hour they continued to pour down; and keeping directly to the bend of the stream, within a furlong of us, they soon assembled there, a dark and confused throng, until, as if by magic, a hundred and fifty tall lodges sprang up. The lonely plain was transformed into the site of a swarming encampment. Countless horses were soon grazing over the meadows around us, and the prairie was animated by restless figures careering on horseback, or sedately stalking in their long white robes....
The Dahcotah or Sioux range over a vast territory, from the river St. Peter to the Rocky Mountains. They are divided into several independent bands, united under no central government, and acknowledging no common head. The same language, usages, and superstitions form the sole bond between them. They do not unite even in their wars. The bands of the east fight the Ojibwas on the Upper Lakes; those of the west make incessant war upon the Snake Indians in the Rocky Mountains. As the whole people is divided into bands, so each band is divided into villages.
Each village has a chief, who is honored and obeyed only so far as his personal qualities may command respect and fear. Sometimes he is a mere nominal chief; sometimes his authority is little short of absolute, and his fame and influence reach beyond his own village, so that the whole band to which he belongs is ready to acknowledge him as their head. This was, a few years since, the case with the Ogillallah. Courage, address, and enterprise may raise any warrior to the highest honor, especially if he be the son of a former chief, or a member of a numerous family, to support him and avenge his quarrels; but when he has reached the dignity of chief, and the old men and warriors, by a peculiar ceremony, have formally installed him, let it not be imagined that he assumes any of the outward signs of rank and honor. He knows too well on how frail a tenure he holds his station. He must conciliate his uncertain subjects.
Many a man in the village lives better, owns more squaws and more horses, and goes better clad than he. Like the Teutonic chiefs of old, he ingratiates himself with his young men by making them presents, thereby often impoverishing himself. If he fails to gain their favor, they will set his authority at naught, and may desert him at any moment; for the usages of his people have provided no means of enforcing his authority. Very seldom does it happen, at least among these western bands, that a chief attains to much power, unless he is the head of a numerous family. Frequently the village is principally made up of his relatives and descendants, and the wandering community assumes much of the patriarchal character.
The Trappers
The fur trade was an important industry long before the Revolution, but after the Westward Movement opened up the region beyond the Mississippi, the search for furs moved to the Rocky Mountains and the Pacific Northwest. Much of the Far West was first visited by the trappers, who ranged widely in their lonely and often hazardous vocation. Many of them were French Canadians or of French extraction, such as Henry Chatillon, the guide of Parkman’s party. In the following selection we have printed an episode from the early career of General Isaac Jones Wistar, who later became a general in the Union Army during the Civil War. Wistar at this time, about 1850, was running his trap lines in the Peace River region of western Canada. François is his partner. Needless to say, trapping was a winter occupation.