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Early Western Travels
1748-1846
Volume XVIII

Early Western Travels

1748-1846

A Series of Annotated Reprints of some of the best
and rarest contemporary volumes of travel, de-
scriptive of the Aborigines and Social and
Economic Conditions in the Middle
and Far West, during the Period
of Early American Settlement

Edited with Notes, Introductions, Index, etc., by

Reuben Gold Thwaites, LL.D.

Editor of "The Jesuit Relations and Allied Documents," "Original
Journals of the Lewis and Clark Expedition," "Hennepin's
New Discovery," etc.

Volume XVIII

Pattie's Personal Narrative, 1824-1830; Willard's Inland Trade
with New Mexico, 1825, and Downfall of the Fredonian
Republic; and Malte-Brun's Account of Mexico.

Cleveland, Ohio
The Arthur H. Clark Company
1905

Copyright 1905, by
THE ARTHUR H. CLARK COMPANY

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Lakeside Press
R. R. DONNELLEY & SONS COMPANY
CHICAGO

CONTENTS OF VOLUME XVIII

[ILLUSTRATIONS TO VOLUME XVIII]

PREFACE TO VOLUME XVIII

Upon the return, in 1806, of the Lewis and Clark exploring expedition, the first successfully to penetrate from the Mississippi River to the Pacific Ocean, the Western imagination was aroused by visions of wealth to be acquired from commercial relations with the Indians of the far Northwest. Fur-trading expeditions were accordingly soon dispatched up the Missouri and its tributaries; and, throughout several years, the equally rich opportunities for Southwestern Indian commerce and exploration were neglected.

Far to the Southwest lay the Spanish settlements of New Mexico, isolated islands of a sluggish civilization. Practically all of their imports were brought in by way of the Gulf of Mexico and Vera Cruz, thence travelling a difficult road of over fifteen hundred miles from the coast, making their cost almost prohibitive to the mixed race of Spaniards and Mexicans who dwelt in the valleys of the upper Rio Grande. Yet within easy reach of their frontier lay one of the chief commercial peoples of the age, to be reached over a wilderness road passing for the most part across level plains, watered by numerous streams—the upper tributaries of the great western affluents of the Mississippi. The common interests of these people and of the Americans lay in an interchange of commodities; but the government of New Spain looked with hostile suspicion upon the aggressive, vigorous race that was even then forcing its borders. Behind the prospect of profit for the overland Southwest trader, loomed the possibility of a gruesome Spanish prison, and confiscation of the adventured goods.

After Zebulon M. Pike returned (1807) with his account of arrest and detention in Santa Fé and Chihuahua, no American trader appears to have sought this region for five years. A party then outfitting from St. Louis was seized at the New Mexican frontier, hurried to an inland dungeon, and kept in durance nine miserable years. News of this harsh treatment, and of the revolutionary movement which was upheaving the social structure of all New Spain, proved sufficiently deterrent to keep any organized expeditions from risking the hazard of the Southwest trade, until the third decade of the nineteenth century. More favorable reports being then received, several caravans were fitted out, and the real history of the Santa Fé trail began.

Among the early merchants of St. Louis, the name of Bernard Pratte, near relative of the Chouteaus and Labbadies, was connected with important fur-trading enterprises. In the summer of 1824 Pratte's eldest son headed a caravan destined for the Santa Fé, his party being rendezvoused at the company's post upon the Missouri, not far from the present site of Omaha. There, while waiting for its final equipment, the expedition was reinforced by four free-traders who had left their home upon the Gasconade River, the frontier of Missouri settlement, and with a small outfit had ascended the river to this point, bent on trading and hunting upon its upper waters. Barred from their enterprise by the lack of an authoritative license for dealing with the Indians, the little band were easily persuaded to join Pratte's party. Two of these recruits were the heroes of our tale—Sylvester Pattie and his son James Ohio.

For three generations the Patties had been frontiersmen. Restlessly they moved onward as the border advanced, always hovering upon the outskirts of civilization, seeking to better their condition by taking up fresh lands in untilled places, and remorselessly fighting the aborigines who disputed their invasion. They longed unceasingly for new adventures in the mysterious West, that allured them with its strange fascination. Brave, honest, God-fearing, vigorous in mind and body, dependent on their own resources, for food and for defense chiefly dependent on the familiar rifle, the Patties belonged to that class of Americans who conquered the wilderness, and yearly pushed the frontier westward.

The career of the grandfather and father of our author, as in simple phrase he relates it in his Introduction, is typical of those of the founders of Kentucky, and the early settlers of the rich valley of the Missouri. To have early emigrated from Virginia to Kentucky, to have aided in the defense of Bryant's Station, and to have served under Colonel Benjamin Logan, and the still more renowned Kentuckian, George Rogers Clark, was unquestionable guaranty to the proud title of pioneer. It was typical, also, that the grandfather, having acquired some local fame and position, and attained the rank of magistrate, the father, tiring of Kentucky, should, like the Boones, join the stream of emigration to Missouri. There, history repeated itself. The War of 1812-15 breaking out, the frontier blockhouses must again withstand the assaults of savages. Lieutenant Pattie's relief of Cap-au-Gris, upon the Missouri, takes rank with Logan's Revolutionary exploits at St. Asaph's. The war ended, and the country filling up, "Mr. Pattie, possessing a wandering and adventurous spirit," once more removed to the utmost borders of civilization, and built a mill upon the rapid Gasconade. Here he was in a fair way to prosperity, when domestic affliction sent him forth into the wilderness, taking with him his eldest son, who "inheriting the love of a rifle through so many generations, and nursed amid such scenes, he begged so earnestly of his father that he might be allowed to accompany the expedition, that he prevailed." Thus began that long series of adventures, so full of hazard and suffering that their unvarnished narration would seem the invention of romance, did not one often find counterparts in the experiences of other Western wanderers.

Recruited to the number of a hundred and sixteen, Pratte's caravan advanced first toward the Pawnee villages of the Platte. Because of his long experience in border warfare, Sylvester Pattie was now chosen commander, and thereafter arranged the details of march and guard. The Pawnee were inclined to be friendly, their chiefs having recently visited the Great Father at Washington; but in rescuing an ill-treated native child, captured by them on a recent raid against a hostile tribe, the whites were nearly embroiled with these pirates of the plains. Securing the little waif, also some Indian guides, the Pawnee were left behind August 11, 1824, and the advance to the Southwest begun. Day after day the party toiled across the plains, their journey filled with stirring incident. Once, prepared to fight a band of from six to eight hundred well-mounted Comanche, the whites were rescued by a rival tribe of horsemen, who, "with a noise like distant thunder," swept in between the hostile lines, and won the battle for them. Again, amid a vagrant party of Indians, the father of the little captive suddenly appeared, and presented the captain of the expedition with tokens of his gratitude for the rescue. Upon the twentieth of August, buffalo were first encountered; and twenty days later, on the ridge between the waters of the Kansas and the Arkansas, young Pattie was introduced to that then formidable enemy, the grizzly bear. From that time forward, these fierce creatures attacked the camp almost nightly; on one occasion, a member of the party was caught and so maimed by a grizzly that he shortly after died of his wounds.

On the twentieth of October the caravan reached the mountains, and after a difficult crossing descended into the attractive valley of Taos, the New Mexican frontier. Pattie was surprised at the primitive life and customs of the inhabitants of New Mexico, of which in a few unadorned sentences he gives us a vivid picture. Passing on to Santa Fé, the ancient capital, our adventurers were just in time to join a punitive expedition against a hostile band of Indians, wherein the junior Pattie had the good fortune to rescue from the hands of the savages a charming young Spanish maiden, daughter of a former governor of the province. The gratitude of the fair captive and of her father was profusely expressed, and their friendship proved of lasting value to the gallant narrator.

Obtaining permission from the New Mexican government to trap upon the Gila River, the Patties organized a small party for that purpose. Leaving Santa Fé on November 22, they passed down the Rio del Norte to Socorro, and then struck across country to the Gila, visiting en route the famous copper mines of Santa Rita. The trip extended through nearly five months, and the hunters were probably the first Americans to visit the upper valley of the Gila. Many of the natives having never seen a white man, fled at their approach; but others were more bold, and viciously attacked them with their arrows. James's appearance upon his return to the New Mexican settlements was so haggard that the rescued Spanish girl shed tears upon observing his plight.

Securing fresh supplies, the party set out to bring in their buried furs from the Gila, only to find that the Indians had discovered and rifled their cache; thus had their hardships and sufferings gone for naught. Returning to the mines, they succeeded in repelling an attack thereon by hostile Apache, and in wringing from them a treaty which ensured the peaceful working of the deposits; whereupon the Spaniards rented these works to Sylvester Pattie, whose American methods enabled him to derive from them a profit unknown to their former operators. But the tranquil life at Santa Rita proved too monotonous for the younger Pattie. He was seized with "an irresistible desire to resume the employment of trapping," and despite paternal remonstrances set out January 26, 1826, with a few companions, for the Gila valley, where he had already suffered and lost so much.

During the following eight months, the range of the trappers' journey was wide. Passing down the Gila to its junction with the Colorado, they ascended the banks of the latter stream, seeing in its now world-famous cañons only walls of highly-colored rock that debarred them from the water's edge. Crossing the continental divide, probably at the South Pass, they emerged upon the plains, and once more hunted buffalo in their native habitat. Turning north to the Big Horn and Yellowstone, the adventurers pursued a somewhat ill-defined course, coming back upon the upper Arkansas, and crossing to Santa Fé, where Pattie was again deprived of the harvest of furs gathered with such wearisome labor—this time by the duplicity of the Spanish governor, who claimed that the young man's former license did not extend to this expedition. After once more visiting the gentle Jacova, his young Spanish friend, Pattie sought his father at Santa Rita. Delaying there but three days for rest, he set forth upon another excursion afield—this time to Sonora, Chihuahua, and other provinces of northern Mexico, returning by way of El Paso, and reaching the mines by the middle of November.

The winter and spring were spent in occasional hunting excursions, and in visits to the Spanish haciendas. In the spring, a new turn was given to the fortunes of the Patties, by the embezzlement and flight of a trusted Spanish subordinate, through whom were lost the savings of several years. Forced to abandon their mining operations, father and son sought to rehabilitate themselves by another extended trapping expedition, and set forth with a company of thirty, again in the direction of the Gila.

Engagements with hostile Indians were of frequent occurrence. Early in November, many of their party having deserted and all of their horses being stolen, the remainder built themselves canoes, and embarked upon the river. Communication with the natives being only possible through the sign language, our adventurers misunderstood their informants to declare that a Spanish settlement existed at the mouth of the Colorado; and in expectation of here finding succor, they continued down that great waterway to its mouth. There they met with nothing but deserted shores, and tidal waves which seriously alarmed and disturbed these fresh-water voyagers. Finding the ascent of the swift current beyond their powers, they had now no recourse but to bury their store of furs, and strike across the rugged peninsula of Lower California toward the Spanish settlements on the Pacific coast. The story of their sufferings in the salt lakes and deserts of this barren land is told with more vigor than delicacy. Arrived at a Dominican mission on the western slope of the mountains, the weary travellers were received with suspicion rather than hospitality. Being placed under surveillance, they were forwarded to San Diego, then the residence of the governor of the Spanish settlements of California.

We now come to a most interesting portion of Pattie's book—his residence in California, in the time of the Mexican régime, and his report of conditions and events in the "land of the golden fleece." According to his account, he and his companions were at first treated with severity, being imprisoned at San Diego for lack of passports, and there detained for many months. The elder Pattie died in his cell, without being permitted to see the son for whose presence he had piteously pleaded in his latest hours. Young Pattie's hatred for the Mexican governor was not unnatural; but the consequent bitterness of expression quite distorts his narrative. A Mexican tradition reports that the Patties were received by the inhabitants with wonder, and treated kindly; also that the elder Pattie embraced the Catholic faith before his death, and expressed his appreciation of the hospitality shown them. We may infer even from the son's statements, since his chief anathemas are reserved for the officers and the priests, that the unofficial population disapproved of the governor's measures.

Pattie was at last released, in recognition of his services as an interpreter, and in order that he might vaccinate the natives of the missions, among whom a smallpox epidemic had broken out. The adventurer now set forth up the coast, stopping in turn at each mission and presidio, and presenting us with a graphic picture of the pastoral life of the neophytes and rancheros. Arrived at San Francisco, he pushed on to the Russian fort on Bodega Bay, returning to Monterey in time to describe and participate in the Solis revolt of 1829. Here he consorted with the small American colony, and in his narrative probably magnifies his own part in this affair, which, seen through the mists of memory, bulked larger than the facts would warrant. At Monterey he encountered his old enemy, Governor Echeandia, who with apparent surprise found his former captive among those who had aided in suppressing the revolt. Proffered Mexican citizenship, Pattie represents himself as showering reproaches on the governor for the indignities he had suffered. Advised by his new friends to make a formal statement of his injuries, and the losses suffered by refusal to permit the securing of his furs, Pattie embarked for Mexico in May, 1830, together with the revolutionists who were being sent to the capital for trial. Upon his departure he conveys his impressions of Alta California in a few striking sentences: "Those who traverse it [the California coast] ... must be constantly excited to wonder and praise. It is no less remarkable for uniting the advantages of healthfulness, a good soil, a temperate climate, and yet one of exceeding mildness, a happy mixture of level and elevated ground, and vicinity to the sea." He then proceeds to animadvert upon the inhabitants and the conduct of the mission padres in their treatment of the natives. The companions of his long and adventurous journey he left settled among the Mexicans; most of them made California their permanent home.

At the City of Mexico, Pattie visited the American diplomatic representative, also the president of the republic, but failed to obtain satisfaction for his losses or injuries. On the way to Vera Cruz, Pattie's travelling party met with an incident then common to travel in Mexico—being halted by the outlawed followers of the recently-deposed president, their arms seized, one of their number hanged, and the remainder relieved of their valuables. From Vera Cruz our adventurer found passage to New Orleans; thence, through the kindly help of compatriots, who loaned him money for the steamboat passage, he ascended the Mississippi to Cincinnati and his early Kentucky home. Here the narrative closes. The only clue we have in reference to his after life, is the one given by H. H. Bancroft, the historian, who thinks he was again in San Diego, California, after the American advent.[1]

When poor Pattie arrived in Cincinnati, August 30, 1830, he not only was penniless, but long incarceration in Mexican prisons had broken his health and spirits. The tale of his adventures was doubtless received with slight credence by his simple relatives. But the Reverend Timothy Flint, the young editor of the Western Monthly Review of Cincinnati, who was already enamored of stories of Western pioneering, prevailed upon Pattie to write an account of his curious experiences. Thus originated the Personal Narrative, which we now republish in full for the first time.[2]

Pattie appears to have written from memory, without the aid of notes taken on the journey—a fact which accounts for the occasional discrepancies in dates, and the obvious confusion of events. Upon the whole, however, the narrative impresses the reader with a sense of its verity, and has the charm of simplicity and vigor. The emendations of the editor, we are assured, were chiefly in the matters of orthography and punctuation, "with the occasional interposition of a topographical illustration, which my acquaintance with the accounts of travellers in New Mexico, and published views have enabled me to make." It is probable that we thus owe to Flint most of the descriptions of scenery, for there is abundant textual evidence that Pattie was not possessed of a poetic fancy. To expand the dimensions of the book, Flint added an article on "Inland Trade with New Mexico," composed chiefly of extracts from the journal of a Doctor Willard, who in May, 1825, set out from St. Charles, Missouri, with an overland party bound for Santa Fé. Thence, practicing medicine on the way, he visited Chihuahua and the northeastern provinces of Mexico, ending his journey at Matamoras. This article, together with another by the same author, on the "Downfall of the Fredonian Republic," also included in the volume, had appeared three years before in Flint's magazine. The volume closes with an extract on Mexican manners and customs, from Malte-Brun's Géographie universelle.

A thrilling tale of pure adventure, ranging all the way from encounters with grizzly bears, and savages who had never before seen a white man, to a revolution in a Latin-American state, Pattie's narrative has long been a classic. Its chief value to the student of Western history depends upon the vast extent of country over which the author passed, the ethnological data which he presents, especially in relation to the Southwestern tribes, and his graphic picture of the contact between two civilizations in the Southwest, with the inevitable encroachments of the more progressive race. One sees in his pages the beginnings of the drama to be fought out in the Mexican War—the rich and beautiful country, which excited the cupidity of the American pioneer; the indolence and effeminacy of the inhabitants, which inspired the virile backwoodsmen's contempt; and the vanguard of the American advance, already touching the Rockies, and ready to push on to the Pacific. The Spanish-American official, displaying his little brief authority, but irritated the restless borderer, whose advent he dreaded, and whose pressure finally proved irresistible. As a part of the vanguard of the American host that was to crowd the Mexican from the fair northern provinces of his domain, Pattie's wanderings are typical, and suggestive of more than mere adventure. His book is well worthy of reproduction in our series.

The present Editor is under obligations to Louise Phelps Kellogg, Ph.D., and Edith Kathryn Lyle, Ph.D., for assistance in preparing this volume for the press.

R. G. T.

Madison, Wis., July, 1905.

FOOTNOTES to Preface:

[1] Bancroft, History of California, iii, p. 171, note 44.

[2] The first edition was published at Cincinnati in 1831; this is, however, less commonly seen than one dated 1833. Both are, however, from the same plates, and differ only in date and style of title-page and form of copyright clause. We follow the earlier edition, in these respects. In 1847, one Bilson published a book in New York under the title, The Hunters of Kentucky; or, the trials and toils of traders and trappers during an expedition to the Rocky Mountains, New Mexico and California, in which much of Pattie's narrative was incorporated verbatim. Harper's Magazine, xxi, pp. 80-94, also gives a résumé of Pattie's adventures, with slight embellishments.

[ Pattie's Personal Narrative of a Voyage
to the Pacific and in Mexico
June 20, 1824--August 30, 1830]

Reprint of the original edition: Cincinnati, 1831

THE

PERSONAL NARRATIVE

OF

JAMES O. PATTIE,

OF

KENTUCKY,

DURING AN EXPEDITION FROM ST. LOUIS, THROUGH THE VAST REGIONS
BETWEEN THAT PLACE AND THE PACIFIC OCEAN, AND THENCE BACK
THROUGH THE CITY OF MEXICO TO VERA CRUZ, DURING JOURNEY-
INGS OF SIX YEARS; IN WHICH HE AND HIS FATHER, WHO
ACCOMPANIED HIM, SUFFERED UNHEARD OF HARDSHIPS
AND DANGERS, HAD VARIOUS CONFLICTS WITH THE IN-
DIANS, AND WERE MADE CAPTIVES, IN WHICH
CAPTIVITY HIS FATHER DIED; TOGETHER
WITH A DESCRIPTION OF THE COUNTRY,
AND THE VARIOUS NATIONS THROUGH
WHICH THEY PASSED.

EDITED BY TIMOTHY FLINT.

CINCINNATI:

PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY JOHN H. WOOD.

1831.

[DISTRICT OF OHIO, TO WIT:]

Be it Remembered, that on the 18th day of Oct., Anno Domini 1831; John H. Wood, of the said District, hath deposited in this office, the title of a Book, the title of which is in the words following, to wit:

"The Personal Narrative of James O. Pattie, of Kentucky, during an expedition from St. Louis, through the vast regions between that place and the Pacific ocean, and thence back through the city of Mexico to Vera Cruz, during journeyings of six years; in which he and his father who accompanied him, suffered unheard of hardships and dangers; had various conflicts with the Indians, and were made captives, in which captivity his father died, together with a description of the country, and the various nations through which they passed."

The right whereof he claims as proprietor, in conformity with an act of Congress, entitled "An act to amend the several acts respecting copyrights."

Attest, WILLIAM MINER,
Clerk of the District.

[EDITOR'S PREFACE] [1]

It has been my fortune to be known as a writer of works of the imagination. I am solicitous that this Journal should lose none of its intrinsic interest, from its being supposed that in preparing it for the press, I have drawn from the imagination, either in regard to the incidents or their coloring. For, in the literal truth of the facts, incredible as some of them may appear, my grounds of conviction are my acquaintance with the Author, the impossibility of inventing a narrative like the following, the respectability of his relations, the standing which his father sustained, the confidence reposed in him by the Hon. J. S. Johnston,[2] the very respectable senator in congress from Louisiana, who introduced him to me, the concurrent testimony of persons now in this city, who saw him at different points in New Mexico, and the reports, which reached the United States, during the expedition of many of the incidents here recorded.

When my family first arrived at St. Charles' in 1816, the fame of the exploits of his father, as an officer of the rangers, was fresh in the narratives of his associates and fellow soldiers. I have been on the ground, at Cap au Gris, where he was besieged by the Indians. I am not unacquainted with the scenery through which he passed on the Missouri, and I, too, for many years was a sojourner in the prairies.

These circumstances, along with a conviction of the truth of the narrative, tended to give me an interest in it, and to qualify me in some degree to judge of the internal evidences contained in the journal itself, of its entire authenticity. It will be perceived at once, that Mr. Pattie, with Mr. McDuffie, thinks more of action than literature, and is more competent to perform exploits, than blazon them in eloquent periods. My influence upon the narrative regards orthography, and punctuation [iv] and the occasional interposition of a topographical illustration, which my acquaintance with the accounts of travellers in New Mexico, and published views of the country have enabled me to furnish. The reader will award me the confidence of acting in good faith, in regard to drawing nothing from my own thoughts. I have found more call to suppress, than to add, to soften, than to show in stronger relief many of the incidents. Circumstances of suffering, which in many similar narratives have been given in downright plainness of detail, I have been impelled to leave to the reader's imagination, as too revolting to be recorded.

The very texture of the narrative precludes ornament and amplification. The simple record of events as they transpired, painted by the hungry, toil-worn hunter, in the midst of the desert, surrounded by sterility, espying the foot print of the savage, or discerning him couched behind the tree or hillock, or hearing the distant howl of wild beasts, will naturally bear characteristics of stern disregard of embellishment. To alter it, to attempt to embellish it, to divest it of the peculiar impress of the narrator and his circumstances, would be to take from it its keeping, the charm of its simplicity, and its internal marks of truth. In these respects I have been anxious to leave the narrative as I found it.

The journalist seems in these pages a legitimate descendant of those western pioneers, the hunters of Kentucky, a race passing unrecorded from history. The pencil of biography could seize upon no subjects of higher interest. With hearts keenly alive to the impulses of honor and patriotism, and the charities of kindred and friends; they possessed spirits impassible to fear, that no form of suffering or death could daunt; and frames for strength and endurance, as if ribbed with brass and sinewed with steel. For them to traverse wide deserts, climb mountains, swim rivers, grapple with the grizzly bear, and encounter the savage, in a sojourn in the wilderness of years, far from the abodes of civilized men, was but a spirit-stirring and holiday mode of life.

[v] To me, there is a kind of moral sublimity in the contemplation of the adventures and daring of such men. They read a lesson to shrinking and effeminate spirits, the men of soft hands and fashionable life, whose frames the winds of heaven are not allowed to visit too roughly. They tend to re-inspire something of that simplicity of manners, manly hardihood, and Spartan energy and force of character, which formed so conspicuous a part of the nature of the settlers of the western wilderness.

Every one knows with what intense interest the community perused the adventures of Captain Riley,[3] and other intrepid mariners shipwrecked and enslaved upon distant and barbarous shores. It is far from my thoughts to detract from the intrepidity of American mariners, which is known, wherever the winds blow, or the waves roll; or to depreciate the interest of the recorded narratives of their sufferings. A picture more calculated to arouse American sympathies cannot be presented, than that of a ship's crew, driven by the fierce winds and the mountain waves upon a rock bound shore, and escaping death in the sea, only to encounter captivity from the barbarians on the land. Yet much of the courage, required to encounter these emergencies is passive, counselling only the necessity of submission to events, from which there is no escape, and to which all resistance would be unavailing.

The courage requisite to be put forth in an expedition such as that in which Mr. Pattie and his associates were cast, must be both active and passive, energetic and ever vigilant, and never permitted to shrink, or intermit a moment for years. At one time it is assailed by hordes of yelling savages, and at another, menaced with the horrible death of hunger and thirst in interminable forests, or arid sands. Either position offers perils and sufferings sufficiently appalling. But fewer spirits, I apprehend, are formed to brave those of the field,

'Where wilds immeasurably spread,
Seem lengthening as they go.'

than of the ocean, where the mariner either soon finds rest beneath its tumultuous bosom, or joyfully spreads his sails again to the breeze.

[INTRODUCTION]

The grandfather of the author of this Journal, was born in Caroline county, Virginia, in 1750. Soon after he was turned of twenty-one, he moved to Kentucky, and became an associate with those fearless spirits who first settled in the western forests. To qualify him to meet the dangers and encounter the toils of his new position, he had served in the revolutionary war, and had been brought in hostile contact with the British in their attempt to ascend the river Potomac.

He arrived in Kentucky, in company with twenty emigrant families, in 1781, and settled on the south side of the Kentucky river. The new settlers were beginning to build houses with internal finishing. His pursuit, which was that of a house carpenter, procured him constant employment, but he sometimes diversified it by teaching school. Soon after his arrival, the commencing settlement experienced the severest and most destructive assaults from the Indians. In August, 1782, he was one of the party who marched to the assistance of Bryant's station,[4] and shared in the glory of relieving that place by the memorable defeat of the savages.

Not long afterwards he was called upon by Col. Logan[5] to join a party led by him against the Indians, who had gained a bloody victory over the Kentuckians at the Blue Licks.[6] He was present on the spot, where the bodies of the slain lay unburied, and assisted in their interment. During his absence on this expedition, Sylvester Pattie, father of the author, was born, August 25, 1782.

In November of the same year, his grand-father was summoned to join a party commanded by Col. Logan, in an expedition against the Indians at the Shawnee towns, in the limits of the present state of Ohio.[7] They crossed the Ohio just below [viii] the mouth of the Licking, opposite the site of what is now Cincinnati, which was at that time an unbroken forest, without the appearance of a human habitation. They were here joined by Gen. Clark[8] with his troops from the falls of the Ohio, or what is now Louisville. The united force marched to the Indian towns, which they burnt and destroyed.

Returning from this expedition, he resumed his former occupations, witnessing the rapid advance of the country from immigration. When the district, in which he resided, was constituted Bracken county, he was appointed one of the judges of the court of quarter sessions, which office he filled sixteen years, until his place was vacated by an act of the legislature reducing the court to a single judge.

Sylvester Pattie, the father of the author, as was common at that period in Kentucky, married early, having only reached nineteen. He settled near his father's house, and there remained until there began to be a prevalent disposition among the people to move to Missouri. March 14, 1812, he removed to that country, the author being then eight years old. Born and reared amidst the horrors of Indian assaults and incursions, and having lived to see Kentucky entirely free from these dangers, it may seem strange, that he should have chosen to remove a young family to that remote country, then enduring the same horrors of Indian warfare, as Kentucky had experienced twenty-five years before. It was in the midst of the late war with England, which, it is well known, operated to bring the fiercest assaults of savage incursion upon the remote frontiers of Illinois and Missouri.

To repel these incursions, these then territories, called out some companies of rangers, who marched against the Sac and Fox Indians, between the Mississippi and the lakes, who were at that time active in murdering women and children, and burning their habitations during the absence of the male heads of families.[9] When Pattie was appointed lieutenant in one of these companies, he left his family at St. Charles' where he was then residing.[10] It may be imagined, that the condition of his wife was sufficiently lonely, as this village contained but one American [ix] family besides her own, and she was unable to converse with its French inhabitants. His company had several skirmishes with the Indians, in each of which it came off successful.

The rangers left him in command of a detachment, in possession of the fort at Cap au Gris.[11] Soon after the main body of the rangers had marched away, the fort was besieged by a body of English and Indians. The besiegers made several attempts to storm the fort, but were repelled by the garrison.—The foe continued the siege for a week, continually firing upon the garrison, who sometimes, though not often, for want of ammunition, returned the fire. Lieutenant Pattie, perceiving no disposition in the enemy to withdraw, and discovering that his ammunition was almost entirely exhausted, deemed it necessary to send a despatch to Bellefontaine,[12] near the point of the junction of the Missouri and Mississippi, where was stationed a considerable American force. He proposed to his command, that a couple of men should make their way through the enemy, cross the Mississippi, and apprize the commander of Bellefontaine of their condition. No one was found willing to risk the attempt, as the besiegers were encamped entirely around them. Leaving Thomas McNair[13] in command in his place, and putting on the uniform of one of the English soldiers, whom they had killed during one of the attempts to storm the fort, he passed by night safely through the camp of the enemy, and arrived at the point of his destination, a distance of over forty miles: 500 soldiers were immediately dispatched from Bellefontaine to the relief of the besieged at Cap au Gris. As soon as this force reached the fort, the British and Indians decamped, not, however, without leaving many of their lifeless companions behind them.

Lieutenant Pattie remained in command of Cap au Gris, being essentially instrumental in repressing the incursions of the Sacs and Foxes, and disposing them to a treaty of peace, until the close of the war.[14] In 1813 he received his discharge, and returned to his family, with whom he enjoyed domestic happiness in privacy and repose for some years. St. Louis and St. Charles [x] were beginning rapidly to improve; American families were constantly immigrating to these towns. The timber in their vicinity is not of the best kind for building. Pine could no where be obtained in abundance, nearer than on the Gasconade, a stream that enters on the south side of the Missouri, about one hundred and fifty miles up that river. Mr. Pattie, possessing a wandering and adventurous spirit, meditated the idea of removing to this frontier and unpeopled river, to erect Mills upon it, and send down pine lumber in rafts to St. Louis, and the adjoining country. He carried his plan into operation, and erected a Saw and Grist Mill upon the Gasconade.[15] It proved a very fortunate speculation, as there was an immediate demand at St. Louis and St. Charles for all the plank the mill could supply.

In this remote wilderness, Mr. Pattie lived in happiness and prosperity, until the mother of the author was attacked by consumption. Although her husband was, as has been said, strongly endowed with the wandering propensity, he was no less profoundly attached to his family; and in this wild region, the loss of a beloved wife was irreparable. She soon sunk under the disorder, leaving nine young children. Not long after, the youngest died, and was deposited by her side in this far land.

The house, which had been the scene of domestic quiet, cheerfulness and joy, and the hospitable home of the stranger, sojourning in these forests, became dreary and desolate. Mr. Pattie, who had been noted for the buoyancy of his gay spirit, was now silent, dejected, and even inattentive to his business; which, requiring great activity and constant attention, soon ran into disorder.

About this time, remote trapping and trading expeditions up the Missouri, and in the interior of New Mexico began to be much talked of. Mr. Pattie seemed to be interested in these expeditions, which offered much to stir the spirit and excite enterprize. To arouse him from his indolent melancholy, his friends advised him to sell his property, convert it into merchandize and equipments for trapping and hunting, and to join in such an undertaking. To a man born and reared under the circumstances [xi] of his early life—one to whom forests, and long rivers, adventures, and distant mountains, presented pictures of familiar and birth day scenes—one, who confided in his rifle, as a sure friend, and who withal, connected dejection and bereavement with his present desolate residence; little was necessary to tempt him to such an enterprise.

In a word, he adopted the project with that undoubting and unshrinking purpose, with which to will is to accomplish. Arrangements were soon made. The Children were provided for among his relations. The Author was at school; but inheriting the love of a rifle through so many generations, and nursed amid such scenes, he begged so earnestly of his father that he might be allowed to accompany the expedition, that he prevailed. The sad task remained for him to record the incidents of the expedition, and the sufferings and death of his father.

COMMENCEMENT OF THE EXPEDITION

I pass by, as unimportant in this Journal, all the circumstances of our arrangements for setting out on our expedition; together with my father's sorrow and mine, at leaving the spot where his wife and my mother was buried, the place, which had once been so cheerful, and was now so gloomy to us. We made our purchases at St. Louis. Our company consisted of five persons. We had ten horses packed with traps, trapping utensils, guns, ammunition, knives, tomahawks, provisions, blankets, and some surplus arms, as we anticipated that we should be able to gain some additions to our number by way of recruits, as we proceeded onward. But when the trial came, so formidable seemed the danger, fatigue, distance, and uncertainty of the expedition, that not an individual could be persuaded to share our enterprize.

June 20, 1824, we crossed the Missouri at a small town called Newport,[16] and meandered the river as far as Pilcher's fort,[17] without any incident worthy of record, except that one of our associates, who had become too unwell to travel, was left at Charaton, the remotest village on this frontier of any size.[18] We arrived at Pilcher's fort, on the 13th day of July. There we remained, until the 28th, waiting the arrival of a keel boat from below, that was partly freighted with merchandize for us, with which we intended to trade with the Indians.

On the 28th, our number diminished to four, we set off for a trading establishment eight miles above us on the Missouri, belonging to Pratte, Choteau and Company.[19] In this place centres most of the trade with the Indians on the upper Missouri. Here we met with Sylvester, son of Gen. Pratte,[20] who was on his way [14] to New Mexico, with purposes similar to ours. His company had preceded him, and was on the river Platte waiting for him.

We left this trading establishment for the Council Bluffs, six miles above.[21] When we arrived there, the commanding officer demanded to see our license for trading with the Indians. We informed him, that we neither had any, nor were aware that any was necessary. We were informed, that we could be allowed to ascend the river no higher without one. This dilemma brought our onward progress to a dead stand. We were prompt, however, in making new arrangements. We concluded to sell our surplus arms in exchange for merchandize, and change our direction from the upper Missouri, to New Mexico. One of our number was so much discouraged with our apparent ill success, and so little satisfied with this new project, that he came to the determination to leave our ranks. The remainder, though dispirited by the reduction of our number, determined not to abandon the undertaking. Our invalid having rejoined us, we still numbered four. We remained some time at this beautiful position, the Council Bluffs. I have seen much that is beautiful, interesting and commanding in the wild scenery of nature, but no prospect above, around, and below more so than from this spot. Our object and destination being the same as Mr. Pratte's, we concluded to join his company on the Platte.

We left the Bluffs, July 30th, and encamped the night after our departure on a small stream, called the Elkhorn.[22] We reached it at a point thirty miles S. W. from the Bluffs. The Pawnee Indians sometimes resort upon the banks of this stream. The country is so open and bare of timber, that it was with difficulty we could find sufficient wood to cook with, even on the banks of the river, where wood is found, if at all, in the prairie country.

Early the next morning we commenced our march up the bottoms of the stream, which we continued to ascend, until almost night fall, when we concluded to cross it to a small grove of timber that we descried on the opposite shore, where we encamped [15] for the night, securing our horses with great care, through fear that they would be stolen by the Indians.

In the morning, as we were making arrangements to commence our march, we discovered a large body of Indians, running full speed towards us. When they had arrived within a hundred yards of us, we made signs, that they must halt, or that we should fire upon them. They halted, and we inquired of them, as one of our number spoke their language, to what nation they belonged? They answered the Pawnee.[23] Considering them friendly, we permitted them to approach us. It was on our way, to pass through their town, and we followed them thither. As soon as we arrived at their town, they conducted us to the lodge of their chief, who posted a number of his warriors at the door, and called the rest of his chiefs, accompanied by an interpreter. They formed a circle in the centre of the lodge. The elder chief then lighting a pipe, commenced smoking; the next chief holding the bowl of his pipe. This mode of smoking differed from that of any Indians we had yet seen. He filled his mouth with the smoke, then puffed it in our bosoms, then on his own, and then upward, as he said, toward the Great Spirit, that he would bestow upon us plenty of fat buffaloes, and all necessary aid on our way. He informed us, that he had two war parties abroad. He gave us a stick curiously painted with characters, I suppose something like hieroglyphics, bidding us, should we see any of his warriors, to give them that stick; in which case they would treat us kindly. The pipe was then passed round, and we each of us gave it two or three light whiffs. We were then treated with fat buffaloe meat, and after we had eaten, he gave us counsel in regard to our future course, particularly not to let our horses loose at night. His treatment was altogether paternal.

Next morning we left the village of this hospitable old chief, accompanied by a pilot, dispatched to conduct us to Mr. Pratte's company on the Platte. This is one of the three villages of the Republican Pawnees. It is situated on the little Platte River,[24] in the centre of an extensive prairie plain; having near[16] it a small strip of wood extending from the village to the river. The houses are cone-shaped, like a sugar loaf. The number of lodges may amount to six hundred.

The night after we left this village, we encamped on the banks of a small creek called the Mad Buffaloe. Here we could find no wood for cooking, and made our first experiment of the common resort in these wide prairies; that is, we were obliged to collect the dung of the buffaloe for that purpose. Having taken our supper, some of us stood guard through the night, while the others slept, according to the advice of the friendly chief. Next morning we commenced our march at early dawn, and by dint of hard travelling through the prairies, we arrived about sunset, on the main Platte, where we joined Mr. Pratte and his company. We felt, and expressed gratitude to the pilot, who, by his knowledge of the country, had conducted us by the shortest and easiest route. We did not forget the substantial expression of our good will, in paying him. He started for his own village the same evening, accompanying us here, and returning, on foot, although he could have had a horse for the journey.

At this encampment, on the banks of the Platte, we remained four days, during which time we killed some antelopes and deer, and dressed their skins to make us moccasins. Among our arrangements with Mr. Pratte, one was, that my father should take the command of this company, to which proposition my father and our associates consented. The honor of this confidence was probably bestowed upon him, in consequence of most of the company having served under him, as rangers, during the late war. Those who had not, had been acquainted with his services by general report.

In conformity with the general wish, my father immediately entered upon his command, by making out a list of the names of the whole company, and dividing it into four messes; each mess having to furnish two men, to stand guard by reliefs, during the night. The roll was called, and the company was found to be a hundred and sixteen. We had three hundred mules, and some [17] horses. A hundred of them were packed with goods and baggage. The guard was posted as spies, and all the rest were ordered to commence the arrangements of packing for departure. The guard was detached, to keep at some distance from the camp, reconnoitre, and discover if any Indians were lurking in the vicinity. When on the march, the guards were ordered to move on within sight of our flank, and parallel to our line of march. If any Indians were descried, they were to make a signal by raising their hats; or if not in sight of us, to alarm us by a pistol shot. These arrangements gave us a chance always to have some little time to make ready for action.

It may be imagined, that such a caravan made no mean figure, or inconsiderable dust, in moving along the prairies. We started on the morning of the 6th of August,[25] travelling up the main Platte, which at this point is more than a hundred yards wide, very shallow, with a clean sand bottom, and very high banks. It is skirted with a thin belt of cotton-wood and willow trees, from which beautiful prairie plains stretch out indefinitely on either side. We arrived in the evening at a village of the Pawnee Loups.[26] It is larger than the village of the Republican Pawnees, which we had left behind us. The head chief of this village received us in the most affectionate and hospitable manner, supplying us with such provisions as we wanted. He had been all the way from these remote prairies, on a visit to the city of Washington. He informed us, that before he had taken the journey, he had supposed that the white people were a small tribe, like his own, and that he had found them as numberless as the spires of grass on his prairies. The spectacle, however, that had struck him with most astonishment, was bullets as large as his head, and guns of the size of a log of wood. His people cultivate corn, beans, pumpkins and watermelons.

Here we remained five days, during which time Mr. Pratte purchased six hundred Buffalo skins, and some horses. A Pawnee war party came in from an expedition against a hostile tribe of whom they had killed and scalped four, and taken twenty horses. We were affected at the sight of a little child, taken [18] captive, whose mother they had killed and scalped. They could not account for bringing in this child, as their warfare is an indiscriminate slaughter, of men, women and children.

A day or two after their arrival, they painted themselves for a celebration of their victory, with great labor and care. The chiefs were dressed in skins of wild animals, with the hair on.—These skins were principally those of the bear, wolf, panther and spotted or ring tailed panther. They wore necklaces of bear's and panther's claws. The braves, as a certain class of the warriors are called, in addition to the dress of the other chiefs, surmounted their heads with a particular feather from a species of eagle, that they call the war eagle.[27] This feather is considered worth the price of ten ordinary horses. None but a brave is permitted to wear it as a badge. A brave, gains his name and reputation as much by cunning and dexterity in stealing and robbing, as by courage and success in murdering. When by long labor of the toilette, they had painted and dressed themselves to their liking, they marched forth in the array of their guns, bows, arrows and war clubs, with all the other appendages of their warfare. They then raised a tall pole, on the top of which were attached the scalps of the foes they had killed. It must be admitted, that they manifested no small degree of genius and inventiveness, in making themselves frightful and horrible. When they began their triumphal yelling, shouting, singing and cutting antic capers, it seemed to us, that a recruit of fiends from the infernal regions could hardly have transcended them in genuine diabolical display. They kept up this infernal din three days. During all this time, the poor little captive child, barely fed to sustain life, lay in sight, bound hand and foot. When their rage at length seemed sated, and exhausted, they took down the pole, and gave the scalps to the women.

We now witnessed a new scene of yells and screams, and infuriated gestures; the actors kicking the scalps about, and throwing them from one to the other with strong expressions of rage and contempt. When they also ceased, in the apparent satisfaction of gratified revenge, the men directed their attention [19] to the little captive. It was removed to the medicine lodge, where the medicine men perform their incantations, and make their offerings to the Great Spirit. We perceived that they were making preparations to burn the child. Alike affected with pity and horror, our party appealed, as one man, to the presiding chief, to spare the child. Our first proposition was to purchase it. It was received by the chief with manifest displeasure. In reply to our strong remonstrances, he gravely asked us, if we, seeing a young rattlesnake in our path, would allow it to move off uninjured, merely because it was too small and feeble to bite? We undertook to point out the want of resemblance in the circumstances of the comparison, observing that the child, reared among them, would know no other people, and would imbibe their habits and enmities, and become as one of them. The chief replied, that he had made the experiment, and that the captive children, thus spared and raised, had only been instrumental, as soon as they were grown, of bringing them into difficulties. 'It is' said he, 'like taking the eggs of partridges and hatching them; you may raise them ever so carefully in a cage; but once turn them loose, and they show their nature, not only by flying away, but by bringing the wild partridges into your corn fields: eat the eggs, and you have not only the food, but save yourself future trouble.' We again urged that the child was too small to injure them, and of too little consequence to give them the pleasure of revenge in its destruction. To enforce our arguments, we showed him a roll of red broad cloth, the favorite color with the Indians. This dazzled and delighted him, and he eagerly asked us, how much we would give him. We insisted upon seeing the child, before we made him an offer. He led us to the lodge, where lay the poor little captive, bound so tight with thongs of raw hide, that the flesh had so swelled over the hard and dried leather, that the strings could no longer be perceived. It was almost famished, having scarcely tasted food for four days, and seemed rather dead than alive. With much difficulty we disengaged its limbs from the thongs, and perceiving that it seemed to revive, we offered him [20] ten yards, of the red cloth. Expatiating upon the trouble and danger of his warriors in the late expedition, he insisted, that the price was too little. Having the child in our possession, and beginning to be indignant at this union of avarice and cruelty, our company exchanged glances of intelligence. A deep flush suffused the countenance of my father. 'My boys,' said he, 'will you allow these unnatural devils to burn this poor child, or practice extortion upon us, as the price of its ransom?' The vehemence and energy, with which these questions were proposed, had an effect, that may be easily imagined, in kindling the spirits of the rest of us. We carried it by acclamation, to take the child, and let them seek their own redress.

My father again offered the chief ten yards of cloth, which was refused as before. Our remark then was, that we would carry off the child, with, or without ransom, at his choice.—Meanwhile the child was sent to our encampment, and our men ordered to have their arms in readiness, as we had reason to fear that the chief would let loose his warriors upon us, and take the child by force. The old chief looked my father full in the face, with an expression of apparent astonishment. 'Do you think' said he, 'you are strong enough to keep the child by force?' 'We will do it,' answered my father, 'or every man of us die in the attempt, in which case our countrymen will come, and gather up our bones, and avenge our death, by destroying your nation.' The chief replied with well dissembled calmness, that he did not wish to incur the enmity of our people, as he well knew that we were more powerful than they; alledging, beside, that he had made a vow never to kill any more white men; and he added, that if we would give the cloth, and add to it a paper of vermillion, the child should be ours. To this we consented, and the contract was settled.

We immediately started for our encampment, where we were aware our men had been making arrangements for a battle. We had hardly expected, under these circumstances, that the chief would have followed us alone into a camp, where every thing appeared hostile. But he went on with us unhesitatingly, [21] until he came to the very edge of it. Observing that our men had made a breast work of the baggage, and stood with their arms leaning against it ready for action, he paused a moment, as if faltering in his purpose to advance. With the peculiar Indian exclamation, he eagerly asked my father, if he had thought that he would fight his friends, the white people, for that little child? The reply was, that we only meant to be ready for them, if they had thought to do so. With a smiling countenance the chief advanced, and took my father's hand exclaiming, that they were good friends. 'Save your powder and lead,' he added, 'to kill buffaloes and your enemies.' So saying he left us for his own lodge.

This tribe is on terms of hostility with two or three of the tribes nearest their hunting grounds. They make their incursions on horseback, and often extend them to the distance of six or seven hundred miles. They chiefly engage on horseback, and their weapons, for the most part, consist of a bow and arrows, a lance and shield, though many of them at present have fire arms. Their commander stations himself in the rear of his warriors, seldom taking a part in the battle, unless he should be himself attacked, which is not often the case. They show no inconsiderable military stratagem in their marches, keeping spies before and behind, and on each flank, at the distance of a few days travel; so that in their open country, it is almost impossible to come upon them by surprise. The object of their expeditions is quite as often to plunder and steal horses, as to destroy their enemies. Each one is provided with the Spanish noose, to catch horses. They often extend these plundering expeditions as far as the interior of New Mexico. When they have reached the settled country, they lurk about in covert places, until an opportunity presents to seize on their prey. They fall upon the owner of a large establishment of cattle and horses, kill him during the night, or so alarm him as to cause him to fly, and leave his herds and family unprotected; in which case they drive off his horses, and secrete them in the mountains. In these fastnesses of nature they consider them safe; [22] aware that the Mexicans, partly through timidity, and partly through indolence, will not pursue them to any great distance.

We left this village on the 11th of August, taking with us two of its inhabitants, each having a trap to catch, and a hoe to dig the beavers from their burrows. During this day's march we traversed a wide plain, on which we saw no game but antelopes[28] and white wolves. At five in the evening, our front guard gave the preconcerted alarm by firing their pistols, and falling back a few moments afterwards, upon the main body.—We shortly afterwards discovered a large body of Indians on horseback, approaching us at full speed. When they were within hailing distance, we made them a signal to halt: they immediately halted. Surveying us a moment, and discovering us to be whites, one of them came towards us. We showed him the painted stick given us by the Pawnee Republican chief. He seemed at once to comprehend all that it conveyed, and we were informed, that this was a band of the Republican Pawnee warriors. He carried the stick among them. It passed from hand to hand, and appeared at once to satisfy them in regard to our peaceable intentions, for they continued their march without disturbing us. But our two associate Indians, hearing their yells, as they rode off, took them to be their enemies, from whom they had taken the child. They immediately disappeared, and rejoined us no more. We travelled a few miles further, and encamped for the night on a small stream, called Smoking river. It is a tributary stream of the main Platte. On this stream a famous treaty had been made between the Pawnees and Shienne;[29] and from the friendly smoking of the calumet on this occasion it received its name.

Next morning we made an early start, and marched rapidly all day, in order to reach water at night. We halted at sunset to repose ourselves, and found water for our own drinking, but none for our mules and horses. As soon as the moon arose, we started again, travelling hard all night, and until ten the next morning. At this time we reached a most singular spring fountain, forming a basin four hundred yards in diameter, in the centre [23] of which the water boiled up five or six feet higher, than it was near the circumference. We encamped here, to rest, and feed our mules and horses, the remainder of the day, during which we killed some antelopes, that came here to drink.

Near this place was a high mound, from which the eye swept the whole horizon, as far as it could reach, and on this mound we stationed our guard.

Next morning we commenced the toil of our daily march, pursuing a S. W. course, over the naked plains, reaching a small and, as far as I know, a nameless stream at night, on the borders of which were a few sparse trees, and high grass. Here we encamped for the night. At twelve next day we halted in consequence of a pouring rain, and encamped for the remainder of the day. This was the first point, where we had the long and anxiously expected pleasure of seeing buffaloes. We killed one, after a most animating sport in shooting at it.

Next day we made an early start, as usual, and travelled hard all day over a wide plain, meeting with no other incidents, than the sight of buffaloes, which we did not molest. We saw, in this day's march, neither tree nor rising ground. The plains are covered with a short, fine grass, about four inches high, of such a kind, as to be very injurious to the hoofs of animals, that travel over it. It seems to me, that ours would not have received more injury from travelling over a naked surface of rock. In the evening we reached a small collection of water, beside which we encamped. We had to collect our customary inconvenient substitute for fuel, not only this evening, but the whole distance hence to the mountains.

On the morning of the 17th, we commenced, as usual, our early march, giving orders to our advance guard to kill a buffaloe bull, and make moccasins for some of our horses, from the skin, their feet having become so tender from the irritation of the sharp grass, as to make them travel with difficulty. This was soon accomplished, furnishing the only incident of this day's travel. We continued the next day to make our way over the same wearying plain, without water or timber, having been obliged [24] to provide more of our horses with buffaloe skin moccasins. This day we saw numerous herds of buffaloe bulls. It is a singular fact, in the habits of these animals, that during one part of the year, the bulls all range in immense flocks without a cow among them, and all the cows equally without the bulls. The herd, which we now saw, showed an evident disposition to break into our caravan. They seemed to consider our horses and mules, as a herd of their cows. We prevented their doing it, by firing on them, and killing several.

This evening we arrived on one of the forks of the Osage,[30] and encamped. Here we caught a beaver, the first I had ever seen. On the 20th, we started late, and made a short day's travel, encamping by water. Next morning we discovered vast numbers of buffaloes, all running in one direction, as though they were flying from some sort of pursuit. We immediately detached men to reconnoitre and ascertain, whether they were not flying from the Indians. They soon discovered a large body of them in full chase of these animals, and shooting at them with arrows. As their course was directly towards our camp, they were soon distinctly in sight. At this moment one of our men rode towards them, and discharged his gun. This immediately turned their attention from the pursuit of the game, to us. The Indians halted a moment, as if in deliberation, and rode off in another direction with great speed. We regretted that we had taken no measures to ascertain, whether they were friendly or not. In the latter case we had sufficient ground to apprehend, that they would pursue us at a distance, and attack us in the night. We made our arrangements, and resumed our march in haste, travelling with great caution, and posting a strong guard at night.

The next day, in company with another, I kept guard on the right flank. We were both strictly enjoined not to fire on the buffaloes, while discharging this duty. Just before we encamped, which was at four in the afternoon, we discovered a herd of buffaloe cows, the first we had seen, and gave notice on our arrival at the camp. Mr. Pratte insisted, that we had mistaken, and said, that we were not yet far enough advanced into the country, [25] to see cows, they generally herding in the most retired depths of the prairies. We were not disposed to contest the point with him, but proposed a bet of a suit of the finest cloth, and to settle the point by killing one of the herd, if the commander would permit us to fire upon it. The bet was accepted, and the permission given. My companion was armed with a musket, and I with a rifle. When we came in sight of the herd, it was approaching a little pond to drink. We concealed ourselves, as they approached, and my companion requested me to take the first fire, as the rifle was surer and closer than the musket. When they were within shooting distance, I levelled one; as soon as it fell, the herd, which consisted of a thousand or more, gathered in crowds around the fallen one. Between us we killed eleven, all proving, according to our word, to be cows. We put our mules in requisition to bring in our ample supply of meat. Mr. Pratte admitted, that the bet was lost, though we declined accepting it.

About ten at night it commenced raining; the rain probably caused us to intermit our caution; for shortly after it began, the Indians attacked our encampment, firing a shower of arrows upon us. We returned their fire at random, as they retreated: they killed two of our horses, and slightly wounded one of our men; we found four Indians killed by our fire, and one wounded. The wounded Indian informed our interpreter, that the Indians, who attacked us, were Arrickarees.[31] We remained encamped here four days, attending our wounded man, and the wounded Indian, who died, however, the second day, and here we buried him.

We left this encampment on the 26th, and through the day met with continued herds of buffaloes and wild horses, which, however, we did not disturb. In the evening we reached a fork of the Platte, called Hyde Park.[32] This stream, formerly noted for beavers, still sustains a few. Here we encamped, set our traps, and caught four beavers. In the morning we began to ascend this stream, and during our progress, we were obliged to keep men in advance, to affrighten the buffaloes and wild horses [26] from our path. They are here in such prodigious numbers, as literally to have eaten down the grass of the prairies.

Here we saw multitudes of prairie dogs.[33] They have large village establishments of burrows, where they live in society. They are sprightly, bold and self important animals, of the size of a Norwegian rat. On the morning of the 28th, our wounded companion was again unable to travel, in consequence of which we were detained at our encampment three days. Not wholly to lose the time, we killed during these three days no buffaloes, of which we saved only the tongues and hump ribs.

On the morning of the 31st, our wounded associate being somewhat recovered, we resumed our march. Ascending the stream, in the course of the day we came upon the dead bodies of two men, so much mangled, and disfigured by the wild beasts, that we could only discover that they were white men. They had been shot by the Indians with arrows, the ground near them being stuck full of arrows. They had been scalped. Our feelings may be imagined, at seeing the mangled bodies of people of our own race in these remote and unpeopled prairies. We consoled ourselves with believing that they died like brave men. We had soon afterwards clear evidence of this fact, for, on surveying the vicinity at the distance of a few hundred yards, we found the bodies of five dead Indians. The ground all around was torn and trampled by horse and footmen. We collected the remains of the two white men, and buried them. We then ascended the stream a few miles, and encamped. Finding signs of Indians, who could have left the spot but a few hours before, we made no fire for fear of being discovered, and attacked in the night. Sometime after dark, ten of us started up the creek in search of their fires. About four miles from our encampment, we saw them a few hundred yards in advance. Twenty fires were distinctly visible. We counselled with each other, whether to fire on them or not. Our conclusion was, that the most prudent plan was to return, and apprize our companions of what we had seen. In consequence of our information, on our return, sixty men were chosen, headed by my father, who set off in order [27] to surround their camp before daylight. I was one of the number, as I should have little liked to have my father go into battle without me, when it was in my power to accompany him. The remainder were left in charge of our camp, horses, and mules. We had examined our arms and found them in good order. About midnight we came in sight of their fires, and before three o'clock were posted all around them, without having betrayed ourselves. We were commanded not to fire a gun, until the word was given. As it was still sometime before daylight, we became almost impatient for the command. As an Indian occasionally arose and stood for a moment before the fire, I involuntarily took aim at him with the thought, how easily I could destroy him, but my orders withheld me. Twilight at length came, and the Indians began to arise. They soon discovered two of our men, and instantly raising the war shout, came upon us with great fury. Our men stood firm, until they received the order which was soon given. A well directed and destructive fire now opened on them, which they received, and returned with some firmness. But when we closed in upon them they fled in confusion and dismay. The action lasted fifteen minutes. Thirty of their dead were left on the field, and we took ten prisoners, whom we compelled to bury the dead. One of our men was wounded, and died the next day. We took our prisoners to our encampment, where we questioned them with regard to the two white men, we had found, and buried the preceding day. They acknowledged, that their party killed them, and assigned as a reason for so doing, that when the white men were asked by the chief to divide their powder and balls with him, they refused. It was then determined by the chief, that they should be killed, and the whole taken. In carrying this purpose into effect, the Indians lost four of their best young men, and obtained but little powder and lead, as a compensation.

We then asked them to what nation they belonged? They answered the Crow.[34] This nation is distinguished for bravery and skill in war. Their bows and arrows were then given them, and they were told, that we never killed defenceless prisoners, but [28] that they must tell their brothers of us, and that we should not have killed any of their nation, had not they killed our white brothers; and if they did so in future, we should kill all we found of them, as we did not fear any number, they could bring against us. They were then allowed to go free, which delighted them, as they probably expected that we should kill them, it being their custom to put all their prisoners to death by the most shocking and cruel tortures. That they may not lose this diabolical pleasure by the escape of their prisoners, they guard them closely day and night. One of them, upon being released, gave my father an eagle's feather, saying, you are a good and brave man, I will never kill another white man.

We pursued our journey on the 1st of September. Our advance was made with great caution, as buffaloes were now seen in immense herds, and the danger from Indians was constant. Wandering tribes of these people subsist on the buffaloes, which traverse the interior of these plains, keeping them constantly in sight.

On the morning of the 2d, we started early. About ten o'clock we saw a large herd of buffaloes approaching us with great speed. We endeavored to prevent their running among our pack mules, but it was in vain. They scattered them in every direction over the plain; and although we rode in among the herd, firing on them, we were obliged to follow them an hour, before we could separate them sufficiently to regain our mules. After much labor we collected all, with the exception of one packed with dry goods, which the crowd drove before them. The remainder of the day, half our company were employed as a guard, to prevent a similar occurrence. When we encamped for the night, some time was spent in driving the buffaloes a considerable distance from our camp. But for this precaution, we should have been in danger of losing our horses and mules entirely.

The following morning, we took a S. S. W. course, which led us from the stream, during this day's journey. Nothing occurred worthy of mention, except that we saw a great number of [29] wolves, which had surrounded a small herd of buffaloe cows and calves, and killed and eaten several. We dispersed them by firing on them. We judged, that there were at least a thousand. They were large and as white as sheep. Near this point we found water, and encamped for the night.

On the morning of the 4th, a party was sent out to kill some buffaloe bulls, and get their skins to make moccasins for our horses, which detained us until ten o'clock. We then packed up and travelled six miles. Finding a lake, we encamped for the night. From this spot, we saw one of the most beautiful landscapes, that ever spread out to the eye. As far as the plain was visible in all directions, innumerable herds of wild horses, buffaloes, antelopes, deer, elk, and wolves, fed in their wild and fierce freedom. Here the sun rose, and set, as unobscured from the sight, as on the wastes of ocean. Here we used the last of our salt, and as for bread, we had seen none, since we had left the Pawnee village. I hardly need observe, that these are no small deprivations.

Rescue of an Indian Child

The next day we travelled until evening, nothing occurring, that deserves record. Our encampment was near a beautiful spring, called Bellefontaine, which is visited by the Indians, at some seasons of the year. Near it were some pumpkins, planted by the Indians. I cooked one, but did not find it very palateable: The next day we encamped without water. Late in the evening of the following day we reached a stream, and encamped. As we made our arrangements for the night, we came upon a small party of Indians. They ran off immediately, but we pursued them, caught four, and took them to the camp they had left, a little distant from ours. It contained between twenty and thirty women and children, beside three men. The women were frightened at our approach, and attempted to run. The Indians in our possession said something to them in their own language, that induced them to stop; but it was some time, before they were satisfied, that we intended them no harm. We returned to our camp, and were attending to our mules and horses. Our little Indian boy was playing about the camp, as usual. [30] Suddenly our attention was arrested by loud screams or cries; and looking up, we saw our little boy in the arms of an Indian, whose neck he was closely clasping, as the Indian pressed him to his bosom, kissing him, and crying at the same time. As we moved towards the spot, the Indian approached us, still holding the child in his arms; and falling on his knees, made us a long speech, which we understood only through his signs. During his speech, he would push the child from him, and then draw it back to him, and point to us. He was the father of this boy, whom we saved from being burnt by the Pawnees. He gave us to understand by his signs, that his child was carried off by his enemies. When the paroxysm of his joy was past, we explained, as well as we could, how we obtained the child. Upon hearing the name Pawnee, he sprang upon his feet, and rushed into his tent. He soon came out, bringing with him two Indian scalps, and his bow and arrows, and insisted, that we should look at the scalps, making signs to tell us, that they were Pawnee scalps, which he took at the time he lost his child. After he finished this explanation, he would lay the scalps a short distance from him, and shoot his arrows through them, to prove his great enmity to this nation. He then presented my father a pair of leggins and a pipe, both neatly decorated with porcupine quills; and accompanied by his child, withdrew to his tent, for the night. Just as the morning star became visible, we were aroused from our slumbers, by the crying and shouting of the Indians in their tent. We arose, and approached it, to ascertain the cause of the noise. Looking in, we saw the Indians all laying prostrate with their faces to the ground. We remained observing them, until the full light of day came upon them.—They then arose, and placed themselves around the fire. The next movement was to light a pipe, and begin to smoke. Seeing them blow the smoke first towards the point where the sun arose, and then towards heaven, our curiosity was aroused, to know the meaning of what we had seen. The old chief told us by signs, that they had been thanking the Great Spirit for allowing them to see another day. We then purchased a few beaver [31] skins of them, and left them. Our encampment for the evening of this day, was near a small spring, at the head of which we found a great natural curiosity. A rock sixteen yards in circumference, rises from eighty to ninety feet in height, according to our best judgment, from a surface upon which, in all directions, not the smallest particle of rock, not even a pebble can be found. We were unable to reach the top of it, although it was full of holes, in which the hawks and ravens built their nests. We gave the spring the name of Rock Castle spring. On the morning of the 9th, we left this spot, and at night reached the foot of a large dividing ridge, which separates the waters of the Platte from those of the Arkansas.[35] After completing our arrangements for the night, some of us ascended to the top of the ridge, to look out for Indians; but we saw none.

The succeeding morning we crossed the ridge, and came to water in the evening, where we encamped. Here we killed a white bear,[36] which occupied several of us at least an hour. It was constantly in chase of one or another of us, thus withholding us from shooting at it, through fear of wounding each other. This was the first, I had ever seen. His claws were four inches long, and very sharp. He had killed a buffaloe bull, eaten a part of it, and buried the remainder. When we came upon him, he was watching the spot, where he had buried it, to keep off the wolves, which literally surrounded him.

On the 11th, we travelled over some hilly ground. In the course of the day, we killed three white bears, the claws of which I saved, they being of considerable value among the Indians, who wear them around the neck, as the distinguishing mark of a brave. Those Indians, who wear this ornament, view those, who do not, as their inferiors. We came to water, and encamped early. I was one of the guard for the night, which was rather cloudy. About the middle of my guard, our horses became uneasy, and in a few moments more, a bear had gotten in among them, and sprung upon one of them. The others were so much alarmed, that they burst their fastenings, and darted off at full speed. Our camp was soon aroused, and [32] in arms, for defence, although much confused, from not knowing what the enemy was, nor from what direction to expect the attack. Some, however, immediately set off in pursuit of our horses. I still stood at my post, in no little alarm, as I did not know with the rest, if the Indians were around us or not. All around was again stillness, the noise of those in pursuit of the horses being lost in the distance. Suddenly my attention was arrested, as I gazed in the direction, from which the alarm came, by a noise like that of a struggle at no great distance from me. I espied a hulk, at which I immediately fired. It was the bear devouring a horse, still alive. My shot wounded him. The report of my gun, together with the noise made by the enraged bear, brought our men from the camp, where they awaited a second attack from the unknown enemy in perfect stillness.—Determined to avenge themselves, they now sallied forth, although it was so dark, that an object ten steps in advance could not be seen. The growls of the bear, as he tore up the ground around him with his claws, attracted all in his direction. Some of the men came so near, that the animal saw them, and made towards them. They all fired at him, but did not touch him. All now fled from the furious animal, as he seemed intent on destroying them. In this general flight one of the men was caught. As he screamed out in his agony, I, happening to have reloaded my gun, ran up to relieve him. Reaching the spot in an instant, I placed the muzzle of my gun against the bear, and discharging it, killed him. Our companion was literally torn in pieces. The flesh on his hip was torn off, leaving the sinews bare, by the teeth of the bear. His side was so wounded in three places, that his breath came through the openings; his head was dreadfully bruised, and his jaw broken. His breath came out from both sides of his windpipe, the animal in his fury having placed his teeth and claws in every part of his body. No one could have supposed, that there was the slightest possibility of his recovery, through any human means. We remained in our encampment three days, attending upon him, without seeing any change for the worse or better in his situation. [33] He had desired us from the first to leave him, as he considered his case as hopeless as ourselves did. We then concluded to move from our encampment, leaving two men with him, to each of whom we gave one dollar a day, for remaining to take care of him, until he should die, and to bury him decently.

On the 14th we set off, taking, as we believed, a final leave of our poor companion. Our feelings may be imagined, as we left this suffering man to die in this savage region, unfriended and unpitied. We travelled but a few miles before we came to a fine stream and some timber. Concluding that this would be a better place for our unfortunate companion, than the one where he was, we encamped with the intention of sending back for him. We despatched men for him, and began to prepare a shelter for him, should he arrive. This is a fork of Smoke Hill river, which empties into the Platte.[37] We set traps, and caught eight beavers, during the night. Our companions with the wounded man on a litter, reached us about eight o'clock at night.

In the morning we had our painful task of leave taking to go through again. We promised to wait for the two we left behind at the Arkansas river. We travelled all day up this stream.—I counted, in the course of the day, two hundred and twenty white bears. We killed eight, that made an attack upon us; the claws of which I saved. Leaving the stream in the evening we encamped on the plain. A guard of twenty was relieved through the night, to prevent the bears from coming in upon us. Two tried to do it and were killed.

In the morning we began our march as usual: returning to the stream, we travelled until we came to its head.[38] The fountain, which is its source, boils up from the plain, forming a basin two hundred yards in circumference, as clear as crystal, about five feet in depth. Here we killed some wild geese and ducks. After advancing some distance farther we encamped for the night. Buffaloes were not so numerous, during this day's journey, as they had been some time previous, owing, we judged, to the great numbers of white bears.

[34] On the 17th we travelled until sunset, and encamped near water. On the 18th we found no water, but saw great numbers of wild horses and elk. The succeeding morning we set off before light, and encamped at 4 o'clock in the afternoon by a pond, the water of which was too brackish to drink. On the 20th we found water to encamp by. In the course of the day I killed two fat buffaloe cows. One of them had a calf, which I thought I would try to catch alive. In order to do so, I concluded it would be well to be free from any unnecessary incumbrances, and accordingly laid aside my shot-pouch, gun and pistols. I expected it would run, but instead of that, when I came within six or eight feet of it, it turned around, and ran upon me, butting me like a ram, until I was knocked flat upon my back. Every time I attempted to rise, it laid me down again. At last I caught by one of its legs, and stabbed it with my butcher knife, or I believe it would have butted me to death. I made up my mind, that I would never attempt to catch another buffaloe calf alive, and also, that I would not tell my companions what a capsizing I had had, although my side did not feel any better for the butting it had received. I packed on my horse as much meat as he could carry, and set out for the camp, which I reached a little after dark. My father was going in search of me, believing me either lost, or killed. He had fired several guns, to let me know the direction of the camp. We travelled steadily on the 21st, and encamped at night on a small branch of the Arkansas. During the day, we had seen large droves of buffaloes running in the same direction, in which we travelled, as though they were pursued. We could, however, see nothing in pursuit. They appeared in the same confusion all night. On the 22d, we marched fast all day, the buffaloes still running before us. In the evening we reached the main Arkansas, and encamped. The sky indicating rain, we exerted ourselves, and succeeded in pitching our tents and kindling fires, before the rain began to fall. Our meat was beginning to roast, when we saw some Indians about half a mile distant, looking at us from a hill. We immediately tied our [35] mules and horses. A few minutes after, ten Indians approached us with their guns on their shoulders. This open, undisguised approach made us less suspicious of them, than we should otherwise have been. When they were within a proper distance, they stopped, and called out Amigo, Amigo. One of our number understood them, and answered Amigo, which is friend, when they came up to us. They were Commanches,[39] and one of them was a chief. Our interpreter understood and spoke their language quite well. The chief seemed bold, and asked who was our captain? My father was pointed out to him. He then asked us to go and encamp with him, saying that his people and the whites were good friends. My father answered, that we had encamped before we knew where they were, and that if we moved now, we feared that the goods would be wet. The chief said, this was very good; but that, as we now knew where his camp was, we must move to it. To this my father returned, that if it did not rain next morning, we would; but as before, that we did not wish to get the goods wet to night. The chief then said, in a surly manner, 'you don't intend then to move to my camp to night?' My father answered, 'No!' The chief said he should, or he would come upon us with his men, kill us, and take every thing we had. Upon this my father pushed the chief out of the tent, telling him to send his men as soon as he pleased; that we would kill them, as fast as they came. In reply the chief pointed his finger to the spot, where the sun would be at eight o'clock the next morning, and said, 'If you do not come to my camp, when the sun is there, I will set all my warriors upon you.' He then ran off through the rain to his own camp. We began, immediately, a kind of breastwork, made by chopping off logs, and putting them together. Confidently expecting an attack in the night, we tied our horses and mules in a sink hole between us and the river. It was now dark. I do not think an eye was closed in our camp that night; but the morning found us unmolested; nor did we see any Indians, before the sun was at the point spoken of. When it had reached it, an army of between six and eight hundred mounted [36] Indians, with their faces painted as black as though they had come from the infernal regions, armed with fuzees and spears and shields appeared before us. Every thing had been done by the Indians to render this show as intimidating as possible. We discharged a couple of guns at them to show that we were not afraid, and were ready to receive them. A part advanced towards us; but one alone, approaching at full speed, threw down his bow and arrows, and sprang in among us, saying in broken English 'Commanches no good, me Iotan, good man.' He gave us to understand, that the Iotan nation was close at hand, and would not let the Commanches hurt us, and then started back. The Commanches fired some shots at us, but from such a distance, that we did not return them. In less than half an hour, we heard a noise like distant thunder. It became more and more distinct, until a band of armed Indians, whom we conjectured to be Iotans,[40] became visible in the distance. When they had drawn near, they reined up their horses for a moment, and then rushed in between us and Commanches, who charged upon the Iotans. The latter sustained the charge with firmness. The discharge of their fire arms and the clashing of their different weapons, together with their war-yell, and the shrieks of the wounded and dying were fit accompaniments to the savage actors and scene. I do not pretend to describe this deadly combat between two Indian nations; but, as far as I could judge, the contest lasted fifteen minutes. I was too deeply interested in watching the event, to note it particularly. We wished to assist the Iotans, but could not distinguish them from the mass, so closely were the parties engaged. We withheld our fire through fear of injuring the Iotans, whom we considered our friends. It was not long before we saw, to our great satisfaction, the Commanches dismounted, which was the signal of their entire defeat. The Iotans then left the Commanches, and returned to their women and children, whom they had left some distance behind. They brought them to our camp, and pitched their own tents all around us, except that of the chief, which was placed in the centre with ours. A guard of warriors was then posted around [37] the encampment, and an order given for the wounded Iotans to be brought into the tent of the chief. There were ten, two of whom died before night. A message was now sent to the chief of the Commanches, in obedience to which he came to the Iotan chief. A council then seemed to be held, and a peace was made, the terms of which were, that the Iotan chief should pay the Commanche chief two horses for every warrior, he had lost in the battle, over the number of Iotans killed. We gave the Iotan chief goods to the amount of one hundred dollars, which pleased him exceedingly. He expressed himself perfectly satisfied with this recompense for the warriors he had lost in our defence. The knowledge, that a party as large as ours was traversing the country, had soon spread in all directions from the reports of Indians, who had met with us, and we became to these savage tribes a matter of interest, as a source of gain to be drawn from us by robbing, kindness or trade.—Our movements were observed. The Commanches determined to possess themselves of their object by force; and the Iotans interfered in our defence, that they might thus gain their point by extortion from friends.

Not a single Commanche was allowed to enter our camp, as arrangements were making for the Iotans to trade with us. All, who had any beaver skins, or dressed deer skins, were sent for. A guard was placed around in a circle, inside of which the skins were thrown down. Each Indian then inquired for the article he wanted. In this way we exchanged with them butcher knives, paint, and powder and ball, for beaver and deer skins, to the amount of fifteen hundred dollars, allowing them what we considered the value of the skins.

The old Commanche chief came to the Iotan chief to ask permission to talk with us, but was forbidden; and we were told not to have any dealings with him. We did not. The Iotan chief then gave us the character of the Commanche chief. He seemed to be thinking some time before he began. 'I know,' said he, 'you must think it strange that I should fight with the Commanches, and then pay them for their warriors killed, over [38] our own number lost, and make peace with them. I will give you my reasons for doing so. Four years ago, this Commanche chief with his followers, went in company with my father, who was a chief, and a few of his followers, in search of buffaloes. After they had killed what they wanted, they divided the meat. The Commanche took all the best of it, leaving the remains for my father. The old man put up with it, and said nothing. On their return, close to this place they met a band of Nabahoes,[41] a nation that had long been at war with ours, and killed a great number of our people. My father wanted to kill them, and began to fire upon them. The Commanches joined the Nabahoes, and together they killed my father and most of his men. He then paid for the lives he had taken, in horses, giving twenty for my father, and four for each warrior. I only give two horses for a warrior. I am now happy. I have killed three times as many of them, as they did of us, and paid less for it. I know they can never get the upper hand of me again. This Commanche chief is a mean man, for whenever he has power, he makes others do as he pleases, or he kills them, and takes all they have. He wanted to act in this way with you; but I do not think he could, for you know how to shoot better than he does; and you would not give up, as long as you had powder and ball and one man alive.' My father as commander, said, 'his men were all good soldiers, and knew how to get the advantage in fighting; and that we had plenty of ammunition and good guns, and were not in the least afraid of being beaten by them.' 'I think so,' replied the chief; 'But I thank the Great Spirit, that it happened as it did. I have taken revenge for the death of my father, and his people, and gained, I hope, at the same time the love of a good and brave people by defending them.' We assured him that he had, expressing our thanks for his aid, and regret for those who had been killed in our defence. 'Yes,' said the chief, 'they were brave men; but they loved my father, whom they have now gone to see, where they will have plenty to eat, and drink, without having to fight for it.' These were his thoughts, as near as I can express them.

The Commanche chief made a second application for permission to talk with us, which was now granted. His object in conversing [39] with us, was, as he said, to make friends with us, and induce us to give him some powder and ball. We told him that we would willingly make peace with him; but not give him any thing, as we did not break the peace. He had threatened to kill us, and take our property without any provocation from us, and certainly, if any present was necessary, it must come from him. We did not, however, wish any present from him, and would make peace with him, provided he promised never to kill, or try to kill a white man. He answered, that he had neither done it, or intended to do it; that with regard to us, he only sought to frighten us, so that we should come to his camp, before the Iotans came up, whom he knew to be not far distant, in order that he might precede them in trading with us, adding that as he had been so disappointed, he thought we ought to give him a little powder and ball. Our answer was, that we had no more ammunition to spare; and that we could not depart from our resolution of not purchasing a treaty from him; but we would give him a letter of recommendation to the next company that came in this direction, by means of which he might trade with them, and obtain what he wanted of these articles. He consented to a treaty on these conditions, and lighting his pipes we smoked friends.

He then asked us if we came through the Pawnee village? We answered in the affirmative. His next question was, had they plenty of ammunition? Our reply was again, yes. We were then given to understand, that he was then at war with them, and had been for a number of years, and that he should soon either make peace with them, or have a general engagement. He would prefer peace, as they were at war with the Spaniards, as well as himself. By uniting forces, they could beat the Spaniards, though in case of a treaty or not, he intended to go against the Spaniards, as soon as he should return from the country of the Pawnees. He added, 'I suppose you are friends with the Spaniards, and are now going to trade with them.' Our commander replied, that we were going to trade with them, but not to fight for them. That, said the chief, is [40] what I wanted to know. I do not want war with your people, and should we accidentally kill any of them, you must not declare war against us, as we will pay you for them in horses or beaver skins. We did not express our natural feeling, that the life of one man was worth more than all the horses or beaver skins, his nation could bring forth; but told him, that we would not injure his people, unless they did ours, on purpose. He returned, apparently satisfied, to his camp. We were detained here until the fourth of November by our promise of awaiting the arrival of the two men, we had left with our wounded companion. They came, and brought with them his gun and ammunition. He died the fifth day, after we had left him, and was buried as decently, as the circumstances would allow.

On the 5th of November[42] we again set off in company with a party of Iotans. The Arkansas is here wide and shallow, like the Platte; and has wide but thinly timbered bottoms on both sides. Extending from the bottom ten or twelve miles on the south side, are low hills composed principally of sand. We found travelling upon them very fatiguing, particularly as we met with no water. Late in the evening we reached water, and encamped.

The next morning we resumed our journey. We were exceedingly diverted, during the day, to see the Iotan Indians in company with us, chase the buffaloes on horseback. They killed them with their arrows. The force, with which they shoot these arrows, is astonishing. I saw one of them shoot an arrow through a buffaloe bull, that had been driven close to our camp. We were again upon level plains, stretching off in all directions beyond the reach of the eye. The few high mounds scattered over them could not but powerfully arrest the curiosity. From the summit of one I again looked down upon innumerable droves of wild animals, dotting the surface, as they seemed to forget their savage natures, and fed, or reposed in peace. I indulged the thoughts natural to such a position and scene. The remembrance of home, with its duties and pleasures, came upon my mind in strong contrast with my actual circumstances. [41] I was interrupted by the discharge of guns, and the screams and yells of Indians. The Iotans had found six Nabahoes a half a mile from us, and were killing them. Three were killed. The others, being well mounted, made their escape. The Iotans came to our camp with their scalps, leaving their bodies to be eaten by wild animals. My father sent men to bury them. The Iotans danced around these scalps all night, and in the morning took up the bodies, we had buried, and cut them in pieces. They then covered themselves with the skins of bears and panthers, and, taking the hearts of the dead men, cut them into pieces of the size of a mouthful, and laid them upon the ground, and kneeling put their hands on the ground, and crawled around the pieces of hearts, growling as though they were enraged bears, or panthers, ready to spring upon them, and eat them. This is their mode of showing hatred to their enemies. Not relishing such detestable conduct, we so manifested our feelings, that these Indians went to their own camps.

We encamped the evening of the next day near water. Nothing worthy of record occurred during the journey of the four succeeding days, except that we came to a small creek called Simaronee.[43] Here we encamped, and killed some buffaloes, and shod our horses. We travelled up this stream some distance, and left it on the 15th.

On the 16th we encamped on a creek, where we found four gentle mules, which we caught. I could not account for their being there. Nothing of importance occurred in the two last days.

From the 17th to the 20th, we journied without interruption. The latter day we came in view of a mountain covered with snow, called Taos mountain. This object awakened in our minds singular but pleasant feelings. On the 23d we reached its foot. Here Mr. Pratte concealed a part of his goods by burying them in the ground. We were three days crossing this mountain.

On the evening of the 26th, we arrived at a small town in Taos, called St. Ferdinando,[44] situated just at the foot of the mountain on the west side. The alcalde asked us for the invoice [42] of our goods, which we showed him, and paid the customary duties on them. This was a man of a swarthy complexion having the appearance of pride and haughtiness. The door-way of the room, we were in, was crowded with men, women and children, who stared at us, as though they had never seen white men before, there being in fact, much to my surprize and disappointment, not one white person among them. I had expected to find no difference between these people and our own, but their language. I was never so mistaken. The men and women were not clothed in our fashion, the former having short pantaloons fastened below the waist with a red belt and buck skin leggins put on three or four times double. A Spanish knife is stuck in by the side of the leg, and a small sword worn by the side. A long jacket or blanket is thrown over, and worn upon the shoulders. They have few fire arms, generally using upon occasions which require them, a bow and spear, and never wear a hat, except when they ride. When on horse back, they face towards the right side of the animal. The saddle, which they use, looks as ours would, with something like an arm chair fastened upon it.

The women wear upon the upper part of the person a garment resembling a shirt, and a short petticoat fastened around the waist with a red or blue belt, and something of the scarf kind wound around their shoulders. Although appearing as poorly, as I have described, they are not destitute of hospitality; for they brought us food, and invited us into their houses to eat, as we walked through the streets.

The first time my father and myself walked through the town together, we were accosted by a woman standing in her own door-way. She made signs for us to come in. When we had entered, she conducted us up a flight of steps into a room neatly whitewashed, and adorned with images of saints, and a crucifix of brass nailed to a wooden cross. She gave us wine, and set before us a dish composed of red pepper, ground and mixed with corn meal, stewed in fat and water. We could not eat it. She then brought forward some tortillas and milk. Tortillas [43] are a thin cake made of corn and wheat ground between two flat stones by the women. This cake is called in Spanish, metate. We remained with her until late in the evening, when the bells began to ring. She and her children knelt down to pray. We left her, and returned. On our way we met a bier with a man upon it, who had been stabbed to death, as he was drinking whiskey.

This town stands on a beautiful plain, surrounded on one side by the Rio del Norte,[45] and on the other by the mountain, of which I have spoken, the summit being covered with perpetual snow.

We set off for Santa Fe on the 1st of November. Our course for the first day led us over broken ground. We passed the night in a small town, called Callacia, built on a small stream, that empties into the del Norte. The country around this place presents but a small portion of level surface.

The next day our path lay over a point of the mountain. We were the whole day crossing. We killed a grey bear, that was exceedingly fat. It had fattened on a nut of the shape and size of a bean, which grows on a tree resembling the pine, called by the Spanish, pinion. We took a great part of the meat with us. We passed the night again in a town called Albukerque.[46]

The following day we passed St. Thomas,[47] a town situated on the bank of the del Norte, which is here a deep and muddy stream, with bottoms from five to six miles wide on both sides. These bottoms sustain numerous herds of cattle. The small huts of the shepherds, who attend to them, were visible here and there. We reached another town called Elgidonis, and stopped for the night. We kept guard around our horses all night, but in the morning four of our mules were gone. We hunted for them until ten o'clock, when two Spaniards came, and asked us, what we would give them, if they would find our mules? We told them to bring the mules, and we would pay them a dollar. They set off, two of our men following them without their knowledge and went into a thicket, where they had tied the mules, and returned with them to us. As may be supposed, we gave them both a good whipping. It seemed at first, that the whole [44] town would rise against us in consequence. But when we related the circumstances fairly to the people, the officer corresponding to our justice of the peace, said, we had done perfectly right, and had the men put in the stocks.

We recommenced our journey, and passed a mission of Indians under the control of an old priest. After crossing a point of the mountain, we reached Santa Fe,[48] on the 5th. This town contains between four and five thousand inhabitants. It is situated on a large plain. A handsome stream runs through it, adding life and beauty to a scene striking and agreeable from the union of amenity and cultivation around, with the distant view of the snow clad mountains. It is pleasant to walk on the flat roofs of the houses in the evening, and look on the town and plain spread below. The houses are low, with flat roofs as I have mentioned. The churches are differently constructed from the other buildings and make a beautiful show. They have a great number of large bells, which, when disturbed, make a noise, that would almost seem sufficient to awaken the dead.

We asked the governor for permission to trap beaver in the river Helay. His reply was that, he did not know if he was allowed by the law to do so; but if upon examination it lay in his power, he would inform us on the morrow, if we would come to his office at 9 o'clock in the morning. According to this request, we went to the place appointed, the succeeding day, which was the 9th of November. We were told by the governor, that he had found nothing, that would justify him, in giving us the legal permission, we desired. We then proposed to him to give us liberty to trap, upon the condition, that we paid him five per cent on the beaver we might catch. He said, he would consider this proposition, and give us an answer the next day at the same hour. The thoughts of our hearts were not at all favorable to this person, as we left him.

About ten o'clock at night an express came from the river Pacus,[49] on which the nobles have their country seats and large farming establishments, stating, that a large body of Indians had come upon several families, whom they had either robbed, or [45] murdered. Among the number two Americans had been killed, and the wife of one taken prisoner, in company with four Spanish women, one of whom was daughter of the former governor, displaced because he was an European. The drum and fife and French horn began to sound in a manner, that soon awakened, and alarmed the whole town. The frightened women, and the still more fear-stricken men, joining in a full chorus of screams and cries, ran some to where the drum was beating in the public square, and others to our quarters. Upon the first sound of alarm we had prepared to repel the enemy, whatever it might be, provided it troubled us. When this group came rushing towards us, the light of the moon enabled us to discern them with sufficient clearness to prevent our doing them any injury. We did not sleep any more that night, for the women, having got the wrong story, as most women do in a case of the kind, told us that the Commanches were in town, killing the people. We awaited an attack, without, however, hearing any sound of fire arms. Our conclusion was, that they were skulking around, dealing out death in darkness and silence with their arrows; and in the feelings, which were its natural result, the remainder of the night passed. The first light of morning showed us a body of four hundred men ready to mount their horses. At sunrise the governor came to us to ask, if we would aid in the attempt to recapture the prisoners taken by the Commanches, relating to us the real cause of the alarm of the preceding night. We complied readily with his request, as we were desirous of gaining the good will of the people. Our arrangements were soon made, and we set off in company with the troops I have mentioned.

The 12th was spent in travelling. We stopped for the night at St. John's, a small town.[50] On the 13th we reached the spot, where the murders and robbery were committed. Here we took the course the Indians had marked in their retreat, stopping only for refreshments. We pressed on all night, as we found their fires still smoking. At eight on the morning of the 15th, the trail being fresh, we increased our speed, and at twelve came in sight of them, as they advanced toward a low gap in [46] the mountains. We now halted, and counselled together with regard to the next movements. The commander of the Spaniards proposed, that my father should direct the whole proceedings, promising obedience on his own part and that of his troops.

The gap in the mountains, of which I spoke, was made by a stream. The Indians were now entering it. My father formed a plan immediately, and submitted it to the Spanish commander, who promised to aid in carrying it into effect. In conformity to it, the Spaniards were directed to keep in rear of the Indians, without being seen by them. We took a circuitous route, screened from sight by the highland, that lay between us and the Indians, in order to gain unobserved a hollow in advance of them, in which we might remain concealed, until they approached within gunshot of us. Our main object was to surprize them, and not allow them time to kill their captives, should they be still alive. The party in the rear were to close in, upon hearing the report of our guns, and not allow them to return to the plain. Our plan seemed to assure us success. We succeeded in reaching the hollow, in which we placed ourselves in the form of a half circle, extending from one side of it to the other, our horses being tied behind us. Every man was then ordered to prime, and pick his gun afresh. The right flank was to fire first, the left reserving theirs to give a running fire, that should enable the right to re-load. The Indians, surrounding the prisoners, were to be taken as the first aim, to prevent the immediate murder of them by their captors. My post was in the centre of the line. We waited an hour and a half behind our screens of rocks and trees, before our enemies made their appearance. The first object, that came in sight, were women without any clothing, driving a large drove of sheep and horses. These were immediately followed by Indians. When the latter were within thirty or forty yards of us, the order to fire was given. The women ran towards us the moment they heard the report of our guns. In doing this they encountered the Indians behind them, and three fell pierced by the spears of these savages. The cry among us now was, 'save the women!' Another young man and [47] myself sprang forward, to rescue the remaining two. My companion fell in the attempt. An Indian had raised his spear, to inflict death upon another of these unfortunate captives, when he received a shot from one of our men, that rendered him incapable of another act of cruelty. The captives, one of whom was a beautiful young lady, the daughter of the governor before spoken of, both reached me. The gratitude of such captives, so delivered, may be imagined. Fears, thanks and exclamations in Spanish were the natural expression of feeling in such a position. My companions aided me in wrapping blankets around them, for it was quite cold; and making the best arrangements in our power for their comfort and safety. This was all done in less time, than is required to relate it, and we returned to our post.

The Indians stood the second fire, and then retreated. We pursued keeping up a quick fire, expecting every moment to hear the Spaniards in the rear following our example to check them in their retreat; but we could discover the entrance upon the plain, before we heard any thing from our Spanish muskets. The Indians then began to yell; but the Spaniards, after one discharge from their fire arms, fled. Being mounted on good horses the Indians did not pursue them, but satisfied as to our numbers, now that we were upon the plain, they rallied, and rushed upon us. Our commander now ordered us to retreat into the woods, and to find shelter behind trees, and take aim that every shot might tell, as it was of the utmost importance, not to waste ammunition, saying, 'stand resolute, my boys, and we make them repent, if they follow us, although those —— Spaniards have deserted us, when we came to fight for them. We are enough for these —— devils alone.' As they came near us, we gave them a scattering though destructive fire, which they returned bravely, still pressing towards us. It was a serious contest for about ten minutes, after they approached within pistol shot of us. From their yells, one would have thought that the infernal regions were open before them, and that they were about to be plunged in headlong. They finally began to retreat again, and we soon [48] put them completely to flight. The Spaniards, though keeping a safe distance, while this was going forward, saw the state of affairs, and joined us in the pursuit, still taking especial care not to come near enough to the Indians, to hurt them, or receive any injury themselves. After the Indians rallied, we lost ten men, and my father received a slight wound in the shoulder.

We removed our horses and the rescued captives into the plain, and encamped. The Spaniards had killed an Indian already wounded, and were riding over the dead bodies of those on the ground, spearing them and killing any, who still breathed. My father commanded them to desist, or he would fire upon them, and the Spanish officer added his order to the same effect. The latter then demanded of us, the two women, whom we had rescued, with as much assurance, as though himself had been the cause of their deliverance. My father replied, by asking what authority or right he had, to make such a request, when his cowardice withheld him from aiding in their release? The officer became enraged, and said, that he was unable to rally his men, and that he did not consider the captives any safer in our hands than in those of the Indians, as we were not christians. This insult, coupled with such a lame apology, only made my father laugh, and reply, that if cowardice constituted a claim to christianity, himself and his men were prime and undoubted christians. He added further, that if the rescued women preferred to accompany him, rather than remain, until he should have buried his brave comrades, who fell in their defence, and accept his protection, he had nothing to say. The subjects of our discussion, being present while it took place, decided the point before they were appealed to. The youngest said, that nothing would induce her to leave her deliverers, and that when they were ready to go, she would accompany them, adding, that she should pray hourly for the salvation of those, who had resigned their lives in the preservation of hers. The other expressed herself willing to remain with her, and manifested the same confidence and gratitude. The enraged officer and his men set off on their return to Santa Fe.

[49] The sun was yet an hour from its setting. We availed ourselves of the remaining light to make a breastwork with the timber, that had drifted down the stream, that we might be prepared for the Indians, in case they should return. We finished it, and posted our sentinels by sunset. The governor's daughter now inquired for the individual, who first met her in her flight from the Indians, and so humanely and bravely conducted her out of danger, and provided for her comfort. I cannot describe the gratitude and loveliness, that appeared in her countenance, as she looked on me, when I was pointed out to her. Not attaching any merit to the act, I had performed, and considering it merely as a duty, I did not know how to meet her acknowledgments, and was embarrassed.

On the morning of the 16th we buried our dead. My father's shoulder was a little stiff, and somewhat swollen. We saddled our horses, and began our return journey. I gave up my horse to one of the ladies, and made my way on foot. We drove the sheep, which escaped the balls, before us. Our last look at the ground of our late contest gave a view sufficiently painful to any one, who had a heart; horses and their riders lay side by side. The bodies of robbers surrounded by the objects of their plunder would probably remain, scattered as they were, unburied and exposed to the wild beasts.

We halted in the evening for the refreshment of ourselves and horses. This done, we again set off travelling all night. The sheep giving out, we were obliged to leave them. At twelve next day we reached Pacus. Here we met the father of the youngest of the two ladies accompanied by a great number of Spaniards. The old man was transported almost to frenzy, when he saw his daughter. We remained here for the day. On the morning of the 18th we all set off together, the old governor insisting, that my father and myself must ride in the carriage with him; but we excused ourselves, and rode by the side of it with the interpreter. The father caressed us exceedingly, and said a great many things about me in particular, which I did not think, I deserved.

[50] The next day at two in the afternoon, we arrived at Santa Fe. We were received with a salute, which we returned with our small arms. The governor came in the evening, and invited my father and the interpreter to sup with him. He ordered some fat beeves to be killed for the rest of us. The father of Jacova, for that was the name of the young lady, I had rescued, came, and invited us all to go, and drink coffee at his son-in-law's, who kept a coffee-house. We went, and when we had finished our coffee, the father came, and took me by the hand, and led me up a flight of steps, and into a room, where were his two daughters. As soon as I entered the room, Jacova and her sister both came, and embraced me, this being the universal fashion of interchanging salutations between men and women among these people, even when there is nothing more, than a simple introduction between strangers. After I had been seated an hour, looking at them, as they made signs, and listening to their conversation, of which I did not understand a syllable, I arose with the intention of returning to my companions for the night. But Jacova, showing me a bed, prepared for me, placed herself between me and the door. I showed her that my clothes were not clean. She immediately brought me others belonging to her brother-in-law. I wished to be excused from making use of them, but she seemed so much hurt, that I finally took them, and reseated myself. She then brought me my leather hunting shirt, which I had taken off to aid in protecting her from the cold, and begged the interpreter who was now present, to tell me, that she intended to keep it, as long as she lived. She then put it on, to prove to me that she was not ashamed of it.

I went to bed early, and arose, and returned to my companions, before any of the family were visible. At eight the governor and my father came to our quarters, and invited us all to dine with him at two in the afternoon. Accordingly we all dressed in our best, and went at the appointed time. A band of musicians played during dinner. After it was finished, and the table removed, a fandango was begun. The ladies flocked in, in great numbers. The instruments, to which the dancers moved, were [51] a guitar and violin. Six men and six women also added their voices. Their mode of dancing was a curiosity to me. The women stood erect, moving their feet slowly, without any spring or motion of the body, and the men half bent, moved their feet like drum sticks. This dance is called ahavave. I admired another so much, that I attempted to go through it. It was a waltz, danced to a slow and charming air. It produces a fine effect, when twenty or thirty perform it together. The dancing continued, until near morning, when we retired to rest.

At eight the following morning we received a license, allowing us to trap in different parts of the country. We were now divided into small parties. Mr. Pratte added three to our original number, they making the company, to which my father and myself belonged, seven. On the 22d, we set off. Our course lay down the del Norte to the Helay, a river never before explored by white people.[51] We left our goods with a merchant, until we should return in the spring. Our whole day's journey lay over a handsome plain covered with herds of the different domestic animals. We reached Picacheh a small town in the evening. Jacova and her father overtook us here, on their way home, which was eighty miles distant from Santa Fe.

In the morning we began our journey, together. During the day we passed several small villages and stopped for the night in one called St. Philip, situated on the banks of the del Norte, surrounded by large vineyards. Jacova's father insisted upon our drinking plentifully of the wine made at this place.

The morning of the 24th saw us again on our journey. Our companion, the old governor, was much amused at seeing us kill wild geese and prairie wolves with our rifles, the latter being abundant in this country. In the evening we reached another small town, called St. Louis. All these inconsiderable villages contain a church. The succeeding day we traversed the same beautiful plain country, which had made our journey so far, delightful. The same multitude of domestic animals still grazed around our path.

[52] On the 27th, we arrived at the residence of Jacova and her father. It was a large and even magnificent building. We remained here until the 30th, receiving the utmost attention and kindness. At our departure, the kind old governor pressed a great many presents upon us; but we refused all, except a horse for each one of us, some flour and dried meat.

Seven hunters coming up with us, who were going in our direction, we concluded to travel with them, as our united strength would better enable us to contend with the hostile Indians, through whose country our course lay. We made our way slowly, descending the river bank, until we reached the last town or settlement in this part of the province, called Socoro.[52] The population of the part of the country, through which we travelled was entirely confined to a chain of settlements along the bottoms of the del Norte, and those of some of the rivers, which empty into it. I did not see, during the whole of this journey, an enclosed field, and not even a garden.

After remaining one day here, in order to recruit our horses, we resumed our course down the river, Dec. 3d. The bottoms, through which we now passed, were thinly timbered, and the only growth was cotton-wood and willow. We saw great numbers of bears, deer and turkeys. A bear having chased one of our men into the camp, we killed it.

On the 7th we left the del Norte, and took a direct course for the Copper mines.[53] We next travelled from the river over a very mountainous country four days, at the expiration of which time we reached this point of our destination. We were here but one night, and I had not leisure to examine the mode, in which the copper was manufactured. In the morning we hired two Spanish servants to accompany us; and taking a north-west course pursued our journey, until we reached the Helay on the 14th. We found the country the greater part of the two last days hilly and somewhat barren with a growth of pine, live oak, pinion, cedar and some small trees, of which I did not know the name. We caught thirty beavers, the first night we encamped on this river. The next morning, accompanied by another man, [53] I began to ascend the bank of the stream to explore, and ascertain if beaver were to be found still higher, leaving the remainder of the party to trap slowly up, until they should meet us on our return. We threw a pack over our shoulders, containing a part of the beavers, we had killed, as we made our way on foot. The first day we were fatigued by the difficulty of getting through the high grass, which covered the heavily timbered bottom. In the evening we arrived at the foot of mountains, that shut in the river on both sides, and encamped. We saw during the day several bears, but did not disturb them, as they showed no ill feeling towards us.

On the morning of the 13th we started early, and crossed the river, here a beautiful clear stream about thirty yards in width, running over a rocky bottom, and filled with fish. We made but little advance this day, as bluffs came in so close to the river, as to compel us to cross it thirty-six times. We were obliged to scramble along under the cliffs, sometimes upon our hands and knees, through a thick tangle of grape-vines and under-brush. Added to the unpleasantness of this mode of getting along in itself, we did not know, but the next moment would bring us face to face with a bear, which might accost us suddenly. We were rejoiced, when this rough ground gave place again to the level bottom. At night we reached a point, where the river forked, and encamped on the point between the forks. We found here a boiling spring so near the main stream, that the fish caught in the one might be thrown into the other without leaving the spot, where it was taken. In six minutes it would be thoroughly cooked.

The following morning my companion and myself separated, agreeing to meet after four days at this spring. We were each to ascend a fork of the river. The banks of that which fell to my lot, were very brushy, and frequented by numbers of bears, of whom I felt fearful, as I had never before travelled alone in the woods. I walked on with caution until night, and encamped near a pile of drift wood, which I set on fire, thinking thus to frighten any animals that might approach during the night. [54] I placed a spit, with a turkey I had killed upon it, before the fire to roast. After I had eaten my supper I laid down by the side of a log with my gun by my side. I did not fall asleep for some time. I was aroused from slumber by a noise in the leaves, and raising my head saw a panther stretched on the log by which I was lying, within six feet of me. I raised my gun gently to my face, and shot it in the head. Then springing to my feet, I ran about ten steps, and stopped to reload my gun, not knowing if I had killed the panther or not. Before I had finished loading my gun, I heard the discharge of one on the other fork, as I concluded, the two running parallel with each other, separated only by a narrow ridge. A second discharge quickly followed the first, which led me to suppose, that my comrade was attacked by Indians.

I immediately set out and reached the hot spring by day break, where I found my associate also. The report of my gun had awakened him, when he saw a bear standing upon its hind feet within a few yards of him growling. He fired his gun, then his pistol, and retreated, thinking, with regard to me, as I had with regard to him, that I was attacked by Indians. Our conclusion now was, to ascend one of the forks in company, and then cross over, and descend the other. In consequence we resumed the course, I had taken the preceding day. We made two day's journey, without beaver enough to recompense us for our trouble, and then crossed to the east fork, trapping as we went, until we again reached the main stream. Some distance below this, we met those of our party we had left behind, with the exception of the seven, who joined us on the del Norte. They had deserted the expedition, and set off upon their return down the river. We now all hastened on to overtake them, but it was to no purpose. They still kept in advance, trapping clean as they went, so that we even found it difficult to catch enough to eat.

Finding it impossible to come up with them, we ceased to urge our poor horses, as they were much jaded, and tender footed beside, and travelled slowly, catching what beaver we [55] could, and killing some deer, although the latter were scarce, owing, probably to the season of the year. The river here was beautiful, running between banks covered with tall cotton-woods and willows. This bottom extended back a mile on each side. Beyond rose high and rather barren hills.

On the 20th we came to a point, where the river entered a cavern between two mountains. We were compelled to return upon our steps, until we found a low gap in the mountains. We were three day's crossing, and the travelling was both fatiguing and difficult. We found nothing to kill.

On the 23d we came upon the river, where it emptied into a beautiful plain. We set our traps, but to no purpose, for the beavers were all caught, or alarmed. The river here pursues a west course. We travelled slowly, using every effort to kill something to eat, but without success.

On the morning of the 26th we concluded, that we must kill a horse, as we had eaten nothing for four day's and a half, except the small portion of a hare caught by my dogs, which fell to the lot of each of a party of seven. Before we obtained this, we had become weak in body and mind, complaining, and desponding of our success in search of beaver. Desirous of returning to some settlement, my father encouraged our party to eat some of the horses, and pursue our journey. We were all reluctant to begin to partake of the horse-flesh; and the actual thing without bread or salt was as bad as the anticipation of it. We were somewhat strengthened, however, and hastened on, while our supply lasted, in the hope of either overtaking those in advance of us, or finding another stream yet undiscovered by trappers.

The latter desire was gratified the first of January, 1825. The stream, we discovered, carried as much water as the Helay, heading north. We called it the river St. Francisco.[54] After travelling up its banks about four miles, we encamped, and set all our traps, and killed a couple of fat turkies. In the morning we examined our traps, and found in them 37 beavers! This success restored our spirits instantaneously. Exhilarating [56] prospects now opened before us, and we pushed on with animation. The banks of this river are for the most part incapable of cultivation being in many places formed of high and rugged mountains. Upon these we saw multitudes of mountain sheep.[55] These animals are not found on level ground, being there slow of foot, but on these cliffs and rocks they are so nimble and expert in jumping from point to point, that no dog or wolf can overtake them. One of them that we killed had the largest horns, that I ever saw on animals of any description. One of them would hold a gallon of water. Their meat tastes like our mutton. Their hair is short like a deer's, though fine. The French call them the gros cornes, from the size of their horns which curl around their ears, like our domestic sheep. These animals are about the size of a large deer. We traced this river to its head, but not without great difficulty, as the cliffs in many places came so near the water's edge, that we were compelled to cross points of the mountain, which fatigued both ourselves and our horses exceedingly.

The right hand fork of this river, and the left of the Helay head in the same mountain, which is covered with snow, and divides its waters from those of Red river. We finished our trapping on this river, on the 14th. We had caught the very considerable number of 250 beavers, and had used and preserved most of the meat, we had killed. On the 19th we arrived on the river Helay, encamped, and buried our furs in a secure position, as we intended to return home by this route.

On the 20th we began to descend the Helay, hoping to find in our descent another beaver stream emptying into it. We had abandoned the hope of rejoining the hunters, that had left us, and been the occasion of our being compelled to feed upon horse flesh. No better was to be expected of us, than that we should take leave to imprecate many a curse upon their heads; and that they might experience no better fate, than to fall into the hands of the savages, or be torn in pieces by the white bears. At the same time, so ready are the hearts of mountain hunters to relent, that I have not a doubt that each man of us would [57] have risqued his life to save any one of them from the very fate, we imprecated upon them.

In fact, on the night of the 22d, four of them, actually half starved, arrived at our camp, declaring, that they had eaten nothing for five days. Notwithstanding our recent curses bestowed upon them, we received them as brothers. They related that the Indians had assaulted and defeated them, robbing them of all their horses, and killing one of their number. Next day the remaining two came in, one of them severely wounded in the head by an Indian arrow. They remained with us two days, during which we attempted to induce them to lead us against the Indians, who had robbed them, that we might assist them to recover what had been robbed from them. No persuasion would induce them to this course. They insisted at the same time, that if we attempted to go on by ourselves, we should share the same fate, which had befallen them.

On the morning of the 25th, we gave them three horses, and as much dried meat as would last them to the mines, distant about 150 miles. Fully impressed, that the Indians would massacre us, they took such a farewell of us, as if never expecting to see us again.

In the evening of the same day, although the weather threatened a storm, we packed up, and began to descend the river. We encamped this night in a huge cavern in the midst of the rocks. About night it began to blow a tempest, and to snow fast. Our horses became impatient under the pelting of the storm, broke their ropes, and disappeared. In the morning, the earth was covered with snow, four or five inches deep. One of our companions accompanied me to search for our horses. We soon came upon their trail, and followed it, until it crossed the river. We found it on the opposite side, and pursued it up a creek, that empties into the Helay on the north shore. We passed a cave at the foot of the cliffs. At its mouth I remarked, that the bushes were beaten down, as though some animal had been browsing upon them. I was aware, that a bear had entered the cave. We collected some pine knots, split them with our tomahawks, and kindled torches, with which I proposed to [58] my companion, that we should enter the cave together, and shoot the bear. He gave me a decided refusal, notwithstanding I reminded him, that I had, more than once, stood by him in a similar adventure; and notwithstanding I made him sensible, that a bear in a den is by no means so formidable, as when ranging freely in the woods. Finding it impossible to prevail on him to accompany me, I lashed my torch to a stick, and placed it parallel with the gun barrel, so as that I could see the sights on it, and entered the cave. I advanced cautiously onward about twenty yards, seeing nothing. On a sudden the bear reared himself erect within seven feet of me, and began to growl, and gnash his teeth. I levelled my gun and shot him between the eyes, and began to retreat. Whatever light it may throw upon my courage, I admit, that I was in such a hurry, as to stumble, and extinguish my light. The growling and struggling of the bear did not at all contribute to allay my apprehensions. On the contrary, I was in such haste to get out of the dark place, thinking the bear just at my heels, that I fell several times on the rocks, by which I cut my limbs, and lost my gun. When I reached the light, my companion declared, and I can believe it, that I was as pale as a corpse. It was some time, before I could summon sufficient courage to re-enter the cavern for my gun. But having re-kindled my light, and borrowed my companion's gun, I entered the cavern again, advanced and listened. All was silent, and I advanced still further, and found my gun, near where I had shot the bear. Here again I paused and listened. I then advanced onward a few strides, where to my great joy I found the animal dead. I returned, and brought my companion in with me. We attempted to drag the carcass from the den, but so great was the size, that we found ourselves wholly unable. We went out, found our horses, and returned to camp for assistance. My father severely reprimanded me for venturing to attack such a dangerous animal in its den, when the failure to kill it outright by the first shot, would have been sure to be followed by my death.

Four of us were detached to the den. We were soon enabled [59] to drag the bear to the light, and by the aid of our beast to take it to camp. It was both the largest and whitest bear I ever saw. The best proof, I can give, of the size and fatness is, that we extracted ten gallons of oil from it. The meat we dried, and put the oil in a trough, which we secured in a deep crevice of a cliff, beyond the reach of animals of prey. We were sensible that it would prove a treasure to us on our return.

On the 28th we resumed our journey, and pushed down the stream to reach a point on the river, where trapping had not been practised. On the 30th, we reached this point, and found the man, that the Indians had killed. They had cut him in quarters, after the fashion of butchers. His head, with the hat on, was stuck on a stake. It was full of the arrows, which they had probably discharged into it, as they had danced around it. We gathered up the parts of the body, and buried them.

At this point we commenced setting our traps. We found the river skirted with very wide bottoms, thick-set with the musquito trees,[56] which bear a pod in the shape of a bean, which is exceedingly sweet. It constitutes one of the chief articles of Indian subsistence; and they contrive to prepare from it a very palatable kind of bread, of which we all became very fond. The wild animals also feed upon this pod.

On the 31st we moved our camp ten miles. On the way we noted many fresh traces of Indians, and killed a bear, that attacked us. The river pursues a west course amidst high mountains on each side. We trapped slowly onward, still descending the river, and unmolested by the Indians. On the 8th of February, we reached the mouth of a small river entering the Helay on the north shore. Here we unexpectedly came upon a small party of Indians, that fled at the sight of us, in such consternation and hurry, as to leave all their effects, which consisted of a quantity of the bread mentioned above, and some robes made of rabbit skins. Still more; they left a small child. The child was old enough to distinguish us from its own people, for it opened its little throat, and screamed so lustily, that we feared it would have fits. The poor thing meanwhile made its [60] best efforts to fly from us. We neither plundered nor molested their little store. We bound the child in such a manner, that it could not stray away, and get lost, aware, that after they deemed us sufficiently far off, the parents would return, and take the child away. We thence ascended the small river about four miles, and encamped. For fear of surprize, and apprehending the return of the savages, that had fled from us, and perhaps in greater force, we secured our camp with a small breast-work. We discovered very little encouragement in regard to our trapping pursuit, for we noted few signs of beavers on this stream. The night passed without bringing us any disturbance. In the morning two of us returned to the Indian camp. The Indians had re-visited it, and removed every thing of value, and what gave us great satisfaction, their child. In proof, that the feelings of human nature are the same every where, and that the language of kindness is a universal one; in token of their gratitude, as we understood it, they had suspended a package on a kind of stick, which they had stuck erect. Availing ourselves of their offer, we examined the present, and found it to contain a large dressed buck skin, an article, which we greatly needed for moccasins, of which some of us were in pressing want. On the same stick we tied a red handkerchief by way of some return.

We thence continued to travel up this stream four days in succession, with very little incident to diversify our march. We found the banks of this river plentifully timbered with trees of various species, and the land fine for cultivation. On the morning of the 13th, we returned to the Helay, and found on our way, that the Indians had taken the handkerchief, we had left, though none of them had shown any disposition, as we had hoped, to visit us. We named the stream we had left, the deserted fork, on account of having found it destitute of beavers. We thence resumed our course down the Helay, which continues to flow through a most beautiful country. Warned by the frequent traces of fresh Indian foot-prints, we every night adopted [61] the expedient of enclosing our horses in a pen, feeding them with cotton-wood bark, which we found much better for them than grass.

On the 16th, we advanced to a point, where the river runs between high mountains, in a ravine so narrow, as barely to afford it space to pass. We commenced exploring them to search for a gap, through which we might be able to pass. We continued our expedition, travelling north, until we discovered a branch, that made its way out of the mountains. Up its ravine we ascended to the head of the branch. Its fountains were supplied by an immense snow bank, on the summit of the mountain. With great labor and fatigue we reached this summit, but could descry no plains within the limits of vision. On every side the peaks of ragged and frowning mountains rose above the clouds, affording a prospect of dreariness and desolation, to chill the heart. While we could hear the thunder burst, and see the lightning glare before us, we found an atmosphere so cold, that we were obliged to keep up severe and unremitting exercise, to escape freezing.

We commenced descending the western declivity of the mountains, amidst thick mists and dark clouds, with which they were enveloped. We pitied our horses and mules, that were continually sliding and falling, by which their limbs were strained, and their bodies bruised. To our great joy, we were not long, before we came upon the ravine of a branch, that wound its way through the vast masses of crags and mountains. We were disappointed, however, in our purpose to follow it to the Helay. Before it mingled with that stream, it ingulfed itself so deep between the cliffs, that though we heard the dash of the waters in their narrow bed, we could hardly see them. We were obliged to thread our way, as we might, along the precipice, that constituted the banks of the creek. We were often obliged to unpack our mules and horses, and transport their loads by hand from one precipice to another. We continued wandering among the mountains in this way, until the 23d. Our provisions were at this time exhausted, and our horses and [62] mules so worn out, that they were utterly unable to proceed further. Thus we were absolutely obliged to lie by two days. During this time, Allen and myself commenced climbing towards the highest peak of the mountains in our vicinity. It was night-fall, before we gained it. But from it we could distinctly trace the winding path of the river in several places; and what was still more cheering, could see smokes arising from several Indian camps. To meet even enemies, was more tolerable, than thus miserably to perish with hunger and cold in the mountains. Our report on our return animated the despair of our companions. On the morning of the 25th we resumed our painful efforts to reach the river. On the 28th, to our great joy, we once more found ourselves on its banks. A party of Indians, encamped there, fled at our approach. But fortunately they left a little mush prepared from the seeds of grass. Without scruple we devoured it with appetites truly ravenous. In the morning we took ten beavers in our traps, and Allen was detached with me to clear away a path, through which the pack horses might pass. We were obliged to cross the river twelve times in the course of a single day. We still discovered the fresh footprints of Indians, who had deserted their camps, and fled before us. We were continually apprehensive, that they would fire their arrows upon us, or overwhelm us with rocks, let loose upon us from the summits of the high cliffs, directly under which we were obliged to pass. The third day, after we had left our company, I shot a wild goose in the river. The report of my gun raised the screams of women and children. Too much alarmed to stop for my game, I mounted my horse, and rode toward them, with a view to convince them, or in some way, to show them, that we intended them no harm. We discovered them ahead of us, climbing the mountains, the men in advance of the women, and all fleeing at the top of their speed. As soon as they saw us, they turned, and let fly a few arrows at us, one of which would have despatched my companion, had he not been infinitely dextrous in dodging. Hungry and fatigued and by no means in the best humor, my companion returned [63] them abundance of curses for their arrows. From words he was proceeding to deeds, and would undoubtedly have shot one of them, had I not caught his gun, and made him sensible of the madness of such a deed. It was clearly our wisdom to convince them, that we had no inclination to injure them. Some of them were clad in robes of rabbit skins, part of which they shed, in their hurry to clamber over the rocks.

Finding ourselves unable to overtake them, we returned to their camp, to discover if they had left any thing that we could eat. At no great distance from their camp, we observed a mound of fresh earth, in appearance like one of our coal kilns. Considering it improbable, that the Indians would be engaged in burning coal, we opened the mound, and found it to contain a sort of vegetable that had the appearance of herbage, which seemed to be baking in the ground, to prepare it for eating. I afterwards ascertained, that it was a vegetable, called by the Spanish, mascal, (probably maguey.)[57] The Indians prepare it in this way, so as to make a kind of whiskey of it, tasting like crab-apple cider. The vegetable grows in great abundance on these mountains.

Next day we came to the point, where the river discharges its waters from the mountains on to the plains. We thence returned, and rejoined our company, that had been making their way onward behind us. March 3d, we trapped along down a small stream, that empties into the Helay on the south side, having its head in a south west direction. It being very remarkable for the number of its beavers, we gave it the name of Beaver river. At this place we collected 200 skins; and on the 10th continued to descend the Helay, until the 20th, when we turned back with as much fur, as our beasts could pack. As yet we had experienced no molestation from the Indians, although they were frequently descried skulking after us, and gathering up the pieces of meat, we had thrown away. On the morning of the 20th we were all prepared for an early start, and my father, by way of precaution, bade us all discharge our guns at the word of command, and then re-load them afresh, [64] that we might, in case of emergency, be sure of our fire. We were directed to form in a line, take aim, and at the word, fire at a tree. We gave sufficient proofs, that we were no strangers to the rifle, for every ball had lodged close to the centre of our mark. But the report of our guns was answered by the yell of more than an hundred savages, above us on the mountains. We immediately marched out from under the mountains on to the plains, and beckoned them to come down, by every demonstration of friendship in our power. Nothing seemed to offer stronger enticement, than to hold out to them our red cloth. This we did, but without effect, for they either understood us not, or were reluctant to try our friendship. Leaving one of our number to watch their deportment, and to note if they followed us, we resumed our march. It would have been a great object to us to have been able to banish their suspicions, and make a treaty with them. But we could draw from them no demonstrations, but those of fear and surprize. On the 25th we returned to Beaver river, and dug up the furs that we had buried, or cashed,[58] as the phrase is, and concluded to ascend it, trapping towards its head, whence we purposed to cross over to the Helay above the mountains, where we had suffered so much in crossing. About six miles up the stream, we stopped to set our traps, three being selected to remain behind in the camp to dry the skins, my father to make a pen for the horses, and I to guard them, while they were turned loose to feed in the grass. We had pitched our camp near the bank of the river, in a thick grove of timber, extending about a hundred yards in width. Behind the timber was a narrow plain of about the same width, and still further on was a high hill, to which I repaired, to watch my horses, and descry whatever might pass in the distance. Immediately back of the hill I discovered a small lake, by the noise made by the ducks and geese in it. Looking more attentively, I remarked what gave me much more satisfaction, that is to say, three beaver lodges. I returned, and made my father acquainted with my discovery. The party despatched to set traps had returned. My father informed [65] them of my discovery, and told them to set traps in the little lake. As we passed towards the lake, we observed the horses and mules all crowded together. At first we concluded that they collected together in this way, because they had fed enough. We soon discovered, that it was owing to another cause. I had put down my gun, and stepped into the water, to prepare a bed for my trap, while the others were busy in preparing theirs. Instantly the Indians raised a yell, and the quick report of guns ensued. This noise was almost drowned in the fierce shouts that followed, succeeded by a shower of arrows falling among us like hail. As we ran for the camp leaving all the horses in their power, we saw six Indians stealthily following our trail, as though they were tracking a deer. They occasionally stopped, raised themselves, and surveyed every thing around them. We concealed ourselves behind a large cotton-wood tree, and waited until they came within a hundred yards of us. Each of us selected a separate Indian for a mark, and our signal to fire together was to be a whistle. The sign was given, and we fired together. My mark fell dead, and my companions' severely wounded. The other Indians seized their dead and wounded companions, and fled.

We now rejoined our company, who were busily occupied in dodging the arrows, that came in a shower from the summit of the hill, where I had stationed myself to watch our horses. Discovering that they were too far from us, to be reached by our bullets, we retreated to the timber, in hopes to draw them down to the plain. But they had had too ample proofs of our being marksmen, to think of returning down to our level, and were satisfied to remain yelling, and letting fly their arrows at random. We found cause both for regret and joy; regret, that our horses were in their power, and joy, that their unprovoked attack had been defeated with loss to themselves, and none to us.

At length they ceased yelling, and disappeared. We, on our part, set ourselves busily to work to fortify our camp for the night. Meanwhile our savage enemy devised a plan, which, but for the circumspection of my father, would have enabled [66] them to destroy us. They divided themselves into two parties, the one party mounted on horses, stolen from us, and so arranged as to induce the belief, that they constituted the whole party. They expected that we would pursue them, to recover our horses. As soon as we should be drawn out from behind our fortification, they had a reserve party, on foot, who were to rush in, between us and our camp, and thus, between two fires, cut us all off together. It so happened, that I had retired a little distance from the camp, in the direction of the ambush party on foot. I met them, and they raised a general yell. My father, supposing me surrounded, ran in the direction of the yell, to aid me. He, too, came in direct contact with the foot party, who let fly a shower of arrows at him, from which nothing but good providence preserved him. He returned the fire with his gun and pistols, by which he killed two of them, and the report of which immediately brought his companions to his side. The contest was a warm one for a few minutes, when the Indians fled. This affair commenced about three in the afternoon; and the Indians made their final retreat at five; and the succeeding night passed without further molestation from them.

In the morning of the 26th, we despatched two of our men to bring our traps and furs. We had no longer any way of conveying them with us, for the Indians had taken all our horses. We, however, in the late contest, had taken four of theirs, left behind in the haste of their retreat. As our companions were returning to camp with the traps, which they had taken up to bury, they discovered the Indians, sliding along insidiously towards our camp. We were all engaged in eating our breakfast in entire confidence. Our men cried out to us, that the enemy was close upon us. We sprang to our arms. The Indians instantly fled to the top of the hill, which we had named Battle-hill. In a few minutes they were all paraded on the horses and mules stolen from us. They instantly began to banter us in Spanish to come up to them. One of our number who could speak Spanish, asked them to what nation they belonged? They answered, Eiotaro. In return, they asked us, who we were? We answered Americans. Hearing this, they stood in apparent [67] surprise and astonishment for some moments. They then replied, that they had thought us too brave and too good marksmen, to be Spaniards; that they were sorry for what they had done, under the mistake of supposing us Spaniards. They declared themselves ready to make a treaty with us, provided that we would return the four horses, we had taken from them, and bring them up the hill, where they promised us they would restore us our own horses in exchange. We were at once impressed, that the proposal was a mere trick, to induce us to place ourselves in their power. We therefore answered their proposal by another, which was, that they should bring down our horses, and leave them by the pen, where they had taken them, and we in return would let their horses loose, and make friendship with them. They treated our proposal with laughter, which would have convinced us, had we doubted it before, that their only purpose had been to ensnare us. We accordingly faced them, and fired upon them, which induced them to clear themselves most expeditiously.

We proceeded to bury our furs; and having packed our four horses with provisions and two traps, we commenced our march. Having travelled about ten miles, we encamped in a thicket without kindling a fire, and kept a strict guard all night. Next morning we made an early march, still along the banks of the river. Its banks are still plentifully timbered with cotton-wood and willow. The bottoms on each side afford a fine soil for cultivation. From these bottoms the hills rise to an enormous height, and their summits are covered with perpetual snow. In these bottoms are great numbers of wild hogs, of a species entirely different from our domestic swine. They are fox-colored, with their navel on their back, towards the back part of their bodies. The hoof of their hind feet has but one dew-claw, and they yield an odor not less offensive than our polecat. Their figure and head are not unlike our swine, except that their tail resembles that of a bear. We measured one of their tusks, of a size so enormous, that I am afraid to commit my credibility, by giving the dimensions. They remain undisturbed [68] by man and other animals, whether through fear or on account of their offensive odor, I am unable to say. That they have no fear of man, and that they are exceedingly ferocious, I can bear testimony myself. I have many times been obliged to climb trees to escape their tusks. We killed a great many, but could never bring ourselves to eat them. The country presents the aspect of having been once settled at some remote period of the past. Great quantities of broken pottery are scattered over the ground, and there are distinct traces of ditches and stone walls, some of them as high as a man's breast, with very broad foundations. A species of tree, which I had never seen before, here arrested my attention.[59] It grows to the height of forty or fifty feet. The top is cone shaped, and almost without foliage. The bark resembles that of the prickly pear; and the body is covered with thorns. I have seen some three feet in diameter at the root, and throwing up twelve distinct shafts.

On the 29th, we made our last encampment on this river, intending to return to it no more, except for our furs. We set our two traps for the last time, and caught a beaver in each.—We skinned the animals, and prepared the skins to hold water, through fear, that we might find none on our unknown route through the mountains to the Helay, from which we judged ourselves distant two hundred miles. Our provisions were all spoiled. We had nothing to carry with us to satisfy hunger, but the bodies of the two beavers which we had caught, the night before. We had nothing to sustain us in this disconsolate march, but our trust in providence; for we could not but foresee hunger, fatigue and pain, as the inevitable attendants upon our journey. To increase the depression of our spirits, our moccasins were worn out, our feet sore and tender, and the route full of sharp rocks.

On the 31st, we reached the top of the mountain, and fed upon the last meat of our beavers. We met with no traces of game. What distressed me most of all was, to perceive my father, who had already passed the meridian of his days, sinking with fatigue and weakness. On the morning of the first of April, [69] we commenced descending the mountain, from the side of which we could discern a plain before us, which, however, it required two severe days travel to reach. During these two days we had nothing either to eat or drink. In descending from these icy mountains, we were surprised to find how warm it was on the plains. On reaching them I killed an antelope, of which we drank the warm blood; and however revolting the recital may be, to us it was refreshing, tasting like fresh milk. The meat we put upon our horses, and travelled on until twelve o'clock, before we found water.

Here we encamped the remainder of the day, to rest, and refresh ourselves. The signs of antelopes were abundant, and the appearances were, that they came to the water to drink; from which we inferred, that there was no other drinking place in the vicinity. Some of our hunters went out in pursuit of the antelopes. From the numbers of these animals, we called the place Antelope Plain. The land lies very handsomely, and is a rich, black soil, with heavily timbered groves in the vicinity.

On the morning of the 3d, though exceedingly stiff and sore, we resumed our march, and reaching the opposite side of the plain, encamped at a spring, that ran from the mountain. Next day we ascended this mountain to its summit, which we found covered with iron ore. At a distance we saw a smoke on our course. We were aware that it was the smoke of an Indian camp, and we pushed on towards it. In the evening we reached the smoke, but found it deserted of Indians. All this day's march was along a country abundant in minerals. In several places we saw lead and copper ore. I picked up a small parcel of ore, which I put in my shot-pouch, which was proved afterward to be an ore of silver. The misfortune of this region is, that there is no water near these mineral hills. We commenced our morning march half dead with thirst, and pushed on with the eagerness inspired by that tormenting appetite. Late in the evening we found a little water, for our own drinking, in the bottom of a rock. Not a drop remained for our four horses, that evidently showed a thirst no less devouring than ours. [70] Their feet were all bleeding, and the moment we paused to rest ourselves, the weary companions of our journey instantly laid down. It went still more to my heart, to see my two faithful dogs, which had followed me all the way from my father's house, where there was always bread enough and to spare, looking to me with an expression, which a hunter in the desert only can understand, as though begging food and water. Full gladly would I have explained to them, that the sterile wilderness gave me no means of supplying their wants.

We had scarcely commenced the next morning's march, when, at a little distance from our course, we saw a smoke. Supposing it an Indian camp, we immediately concluded to attack it. Adopting their own policy, we slipped onward in silence and concealment, until we were close by it. We found the persons women and children. Having no disposition to harm them, we fired a gun over their heads, which caused them instantly to fly at the extent of their speed. Hunger knows no laws; and we availed ourselves of their provision, which proved to be mascal, and grass seed, of which we made mush. Scanty as this nutriment was, it was sufficient to sustain life.

We commenced an early march on the 6th, and were obliged to move slowly, as we were bare-footed, and the mountains rough and steep. We found them either wholly barren, or only covered with a stinted growth of pine and cedar, live oak and barbary bushes. On the 8th, our provisions were entirely exhausted, and so having nothing to eat, we felt the less need of water. Our destitute and forlorn condition goaded us on, so that we reached the Helay on the 12th. We immediately began to search for traces of beavers, where to set our traps, but found none. On the morning of the 13th, we killed a raven, which we cooked for seven men. It was unsavory flesh in itself, and would hardly have afforded a meal for one hungry man. The miserable condition of our company may be imagined, when seven hungry men, who had not eaten a full meal for ten days, were all obliged to breakfast on this nauseous bird. We were all weak and emaciated. But I was young [71] and able to bear hardships. My heart only ached for my poor father who was reduced to a mere skeleton. We moved on slowly and painfully, until evening, when we encamped. On my return from setting our two traps, I killed a buzzard, which, disagreeable as it was, we cooked for supper. In the morning of the 18th, I found one of the traps had caught an otter.

This served for breakfast and supper. It seemed the means of our present salvation, for my father had become so weak, that he could no longer travel. We therefore encamped early, and three of us went out to hunt deer among the hills. But in this sad emergency we could find none. When we returned, my father had prepared lots, that we should draw, to determine who of us should kill one of the dogs. I refused through fear that the lot would fall to me. These faithful companions of our sufferings were so dear to me, that I felt as though I could not allow them to be killed to save my own life; though to save my father, I was aware that it was a duty to allow it to be done.

We lay here until the 18th, my father finding the flesh of the dog both sweet, nutritive and strengthening. On the 18th, he was again able to travel; and on the 20th, we arrived at Bear creek, where we hid the bears oil, which we found unmolested. We lay here two days, during which time we killed four deer and some turkies. The venison we dried, and cased the skin of one of the deer, in which to carry our oil. We commenced an early march on the 23d, and on the 25th reached the river San Francisco, where we found our buried furs all safe. I suffered exceedingly from the soreness of my feet, giving me great pain and fever at night. We made from our raw deer skins a very tolerable substitute for shoes. The adoption of this important expedient enabled us to push on, so that we reached the Copper mines on the 29th.

The Spaniards seemed exceedingly rejoiced, and welcomed us home, as though we were of their own nation, religion and kindred. They assured us, that they had no expectation ever to see us again. The superintendent of the mines, especially, who appeared to me a gentleman of the highest order, received [72] us with particular kindness, and supplied all our pressing wants. Here we remained, to rest and recruit ourselves, until the 2d of May. My father then advised me to travel to Santa Fe, to get some of our goods, and purchase a new supply of horses, with which to return, and bring in our furs. I had a horse, which we had taken from the Indians, shod with copper shoes, and in company with four of my companions, and the superintendent of the mines, I started for Santa Fe. The superintendent assured us, that he would gladly have furnished us horses; but the Appache Indians[60] had recently made an incursion upon his establishment, stealing all his horses, and killing three men, that were herding them. This circumstance had suspended the working of the mines. Besides he was unable to procure the necessary coal, with which to work them, because the Appaches way-laid the colliers, and killed them, as often as they attempted to make coal.

We arrived at the house of the governor on the 12th. Jacova, his daughter, received us with the utmost affection; and shed tears on observing me so ill; as I was in fact reduced by starvation and fatigue, to skin and bone. Beings in a more wretched plight she could not often have an opportunity to see. My hair hung matted and uncombed. My head was surmounted with an old straw hat. My legs were fitted with leather leggins, and my body arrayed in a leather hunting shirt, and no want of dirt about any part of the whole. My companions did not shame me, in comparison, by being better clad. But all these repulsive circumstances notwithstanding, we were welcomed by the governor and Jacova, as kindly, as if we had been clad in a manner worthy of their establishment.

We rested ourselves here three days. I had left my more decent apparel in the care of Jacova, when we started from the house into the wilderness on our trapping expedition. She had had my clothes prepared in perfect order. I once more dressed myself decently, and spared to my companions all my clothes that fitted them. We all had our hair trimmed. All this had much improved our appearance. When we started [73] on the 15th, the old gentleman gave each of us a good horse, enabling us to travel at our ease.

On the 18th we arrived at Santa Fe, where we immediately met some of our former companions. It hardly need be added, that the joy of this recognition was great and mutual. We found Mr. Pratte ill in bed. He expressed himself delighted to see me, and was still more desirous to see my father. He informed me, that four of the company that he had detached to trap, had been defeated by the Indians, and the majority of them killed. He had, also, despaired of ever seeing us again. I took a part of my goods, and started back to the mines on the 21st. None of my companions were willing to accompany me on account of the great apprehended danger from the Indians between this place and the mines. In consequence, I hired a man to go with me, and having purchased what horses I wanted, we two travelled on in company. I would have preferred to have purchased my horses of the old governor. But I knew that his noble nature would impel him to give them to me, and felt reluctant to incur such an obligation. When I left his house, he insisted on my receiving a gold chain, in token of the perpetual remembrance of his daughter. I saw no pretext for refusing it, and as I received it, she assured me that she should always make mention of my father and me in her prayers.

I left this hospitable place on the 24th, taking all my clothes with me, except the hunting shirt, which I had worn in the battle with the Commanches. This she desired to retain, insisting, that she wished to preserve this memorial to the day of her death. We arrived at the mines the first day of June, having experienced no molestation from the Indians. We continued here, making arrangements for our expedition to bring in the furs, until the 6th. The good natured commander gave us provisions to last us to the point where our furs were buried, and back again. Still more, he armed ten of his laborers, and detached them to accompany us. The company consisted of four Americans, the man hired at Santa Fe, and the commander's ten men, fifteen in all.

[74] We left the mines on the 7th, and reached Battle-hill on Beaver river on the 22d. I need not attempt to describe my feelings, for no description could paint them, when I found the furs all gone, and perceived that the Indians had discovered them and taken them away. All that, for which we had hazarded ourselves, and suffered every thing but death, was gone. The whole fruit of our long, toilsome and dangerous expedition was lost, and all my golden hopes of prosperity and comfort vanished like a dream. I tried to convince myself, that repining was of no use, and we started for the river San Francisco on the 29th. Here we found the small quantity buried there, our whole compensation for a year's toil, misery and danger. We met no Indians either going or returning.

We arrived at the mines the 8th of July, and after having rested two days proposed to start for Santa Fe. The commander, don Juan Unis, requested us to remain with him two or three months, to guard his workmen from the Indians, while pursuing their employment in the woods. He offered, as a compensation, a dollar a day. We consented to stay, though without accepting the wages. We should have considered ourselves ungrateful, after all the kindness, he had rendered us at the hour of our greatest need, either to have refused the request, or to have accepted a compensation. Consequently we made our arrangements to stay.

We passed our time most pleasantly in hunting deer and bears, of which there were great numbers in the vicinity. We had no other duties to perform, than to walk round in the vicinity of the workmen, or sit by and see them work. Most of my time was spent with don Juan, who kindly undertook to teach me to speak Spanish. Of him, having no other person with whom to converse, I learned the language easily, and rapidly. One month of our engagement passed off without any molestation from the Indians. But on the first day of August, while three of us were hunting deer, we discovered the trail of six Indians approaching the mines. We followed the trail, and within about a mile from the mines, we came up with them. [75] They fled, and we pursued close at their heels. Gaining upon them, one of them dodged us, into the head of a hollow. We surrounded him. As soon as he saw that we had discovered him, and that escape was impossible, he sprung on his feet, threw away his bow and arrows, and begged us most submissively not to shoot him. One of our men made up to him, while the other man and myself stood with our guns cocked, and raised to our faces, ready to shoot him, if he made the least motion towards his bow. But he remained perfectly still, crossing his hands, that we might tie them. Having done it, we drove him on before us. We had advanced about a hundred yards from the point where we took him, when he pointed out to us a hollow tree, intimating that there was another Indian concealed there. We bade him instruct his companion to make no resistance, and to surrender himself, or we would kill him. He explained our words to his companion in the tree. He immediately came forth from his concealment with his bow, and we tied his hands in the same way as the other's. We marched them before us to the mines, where we put them in prison. The Spaniards, exasperated with their recent cruelties and murders, would have killed them. We insisted that they should be spared, and they remained in prison until the next morning.

We then brought them out of prison, conversed with them, and showed them how closely we could fire. We instructed one of them to tell his chief to come in, accompanied by all his warriors, to make peace. We retained one of the prisoners as a hostage, assuring the other, that if his chief did not come in to make peace, we would put the hostage to death. In regard to the mode of making it, we engaged, that only four of our men should meet them at a hollow, half a mile from the mine. We enjoined it on him to bring them there within the term of four days. We readily discovered by the tranquil countenance of our hostage, that he had no apprehensions that they would not come in.

Afterwards, by way of precaution, my father put in requisition all the arms he could find in the vicinity of the mines, with [76] which he armed thirty Spaniards. He then ordered a trench dug, at a hundred yard's distance from the point designated for the Indians to occupy. This trench was to be occupied by our armed men, during the time of the treaty, in case, that if the Indians should be insolent or menacing, these men might be at hand to overawe them, or aid us, according to circumstances.

On the 5th, we repaired to the place designated, and in a short time, the Indians to the number of 80, came in sight. We had prepared a pipe, tobacco, and a council fire, and had spread a blanket, on which the chief might sit down. As soon as they came near us, they threw down their arms. The four chiefs came up to us, and we all sat down on the blanket. We commenced discussing the subject, for which they were convened. We asked them, if they were ready to make a peace with us; and if not what were the objections? They replied, that they had no objections to a peace with the Americans, but would never make one with the Spaniards. When we asked their reasons, they answered that they had been long at war with the Spaniards, and that a great many murders had been mutually inflicted on either side. They admitted, that they had taken a great many horses from the Spaniards, but indignantly alleged, that a large party of their people had come in to make peace with the Spaniards, of which they pretended to be very desirous; that with such pretexts, they had decoyed the party within their walls, and then commenced butchering them like a flock of sheep. The very few who had escaped, had taken an unalterable resolution never to make peace with them. 'In pursuance,' they continued, 'of our purposes of revenge, great numbers of our nation went in among the Spaniards, and were baptized. There they remain faithful spies for us, informing us when and where there were favorable opportunities to kill, and plunder our enemies.'

We told them in reply, that if they really felt disposed to be at peace with the Americans, these mines were now working jointly by us and the Spaniards; that it was wrong in them to revenge the crimes of the guilty upon the innocent, and that [77] these Spaniards had taken no part in the cowardly and cruel butchery, of which they had spoken; and that if they would not be peaceable, and allow us to work the mines unmolested, the Americans would consider them at war, and would raise a sufficient body of men to pursue them to their lurking places in the mountains; that they had good evidence that our people could travel in the woods and among the mountains, as well as themselves; and that we could shoot a great deal better than either they or the Spaniards, and that we had no cowards among us, but true men, who had no fear and would keep their word.

The chiefs answered, that if the mines belonged to the Americans, they would promise never to disturb the people that worked them. We left them, therefore, to infer that the mines belonged to us, and took them at their word. We then lit the pipe, and all the Indians gathered in a circle round the fire. The four chiefs, each in succession made a long speech, in which we could often distinguish the terms Americans, and Espanola. The men listened with profound attention, occasionally sanctioning what was said by a nod of the head. We then commenced smoking, and the pipe passed twice round the circle. They then dug a hole in the ground in the centre of the circle, and each one spat in it. They then filled it up with earth, danced round it, and stuck their arrows in the little mound. They then gathered a large pile of stones over it, and painted themselves red. Such are their ceremonies of making peace. All the forms of the ceremony were familiar to us, except the pile of stones, and spitting in the hole they had dug, which are not practised by the Indians on the American frontiers. We asked them the meaning of the spitting. They said, that they did it in token of spitting out all their spite and revenge, and burying their anger under the ground.

It was two o'clock before all these ceremonies were finished. We then showed them our reserve force in the trench. They evinced great alarm to see their enemies the Spaniards so close to them, and all ready for action. We explained to them, that we intended to be in good faith, if they were; and that these [78] men were posted there, only in case they showed a disposition to violence. Their fears vanished and tranquility returned to their countenances. The chiefs laughed, and said to each other, these Americans know how to fight, and make peace too. But were they to fight us, they would have to get a company entirely of their own people; for that if they took any Spaniards into their company, they would be sure to desert them in the time of action.

We thence all marched to the mines, where we killed three beeves to feed the Indians. After they had eaten, and were in excellent humor, the head chief made a present to my father, of ten miles square of a tract of land lying on a river about three miles from the mines. It was very favorable for cultivation, and the Spaniards had several times attempted to make a crop of grain upon it; but the Indians had as often either killed the cultivators, or destroyed the grain. My father informed them, that though the land might be his, he should be obliged to employ Spaniards to cultivate it for him; and that, having made the land his, they must consider these cultivators his people, and not molest them. With a look of great firmness, the chief said 'that he was a man of truth, and had given his word, and that we should find that nothing belonging to the mines would be disturbed, for that he never would allow the treaty to be violated.' He went on to add, 'that he wanted to be at peace with us, because he had discovered, that the Americans never showed any disposition to kill, except in battle; that they had had a proof of this in our not killing the two prisoners we had taken; but had sent one of them to invite his people to come in, and make peace with us, and that he took pleasure in making known to us, that they were good people too, and had no wish to injure men that did not disturb or injure them.'

All this farce of bringing the Indians to terms of peace with this establishment was of infinite service to the Spaniards, though of none to us; for we neither had any interest in the mines, nor intended to stay there much longer. But we were glad to oblige don Juan who had been so great a benefactor [79] to us. He, on his part, was most thankful to us; for he could now work the mines without any risk of losing men or cattle. He could now raise his own grain, which he had hitherto been obliged to pack 200 miles, not without having many of those engaged in bringing it, either killed or robbed. The Indians now had so much changed their deportment as to bring in horses or cows, that they found astray from the mines. They regularly brought in deer and turkies to sell, which don Juan, to keep alive their friendship, purchased, whether he needed the articles or not. Every day more or less Indians came into the settlement to go and hunt deer and bears with us. They were astonished at the closeness of our shooting; and nothing seemed to delight them so much, as our telling them, we would learn them to shoot our guns. My father had the honor to be denominated in their language, the big Captain.

Don Juan, apprehending that the truce with the Indians would last no longer than while we staid, and that after our departure, the Indians would resume their former habits of robbery and murder, was desirous to retain us as long as possible. We agreed to stay until December, when our plan was to commence another trapping expedition on the Helay, following it down to its mouth. With every disposition on the part of don Juan to render our stay agreeable, the time passed away pleasantly. On the 16th of September, the priest, to whose diocese the mines belonged, made a visit to the mines, to release the spirits of those who had died since his last visit, from purgatory, and to make Christians by baptising the little persons who had been born in the same time.

This old priest, out of a reverend regard to his own person, had fled from this settlement at the commencement of the Indian disturbances; and had not returned until now, when the Indians had made peace. A body of Indians happened to be in, when the priest came. We were exceedingly amused with the interview between the priest and an Indian chief, who, from having had one of his hands bitten off by a bear, was called Mocho Mano. The priest asked the one handed chief, why [80] he did not offer himself for baptism? Mocho remained silent for some time, as if ruminating an answer. He then said, 'the Appache chief is a very big rogue now. Should he get his crown sprinkled with holy water, it would either do him no good at all, or if it had any effect, would make him a greater rogue; for that the priests, who made the water holy, and then went sprinkling it about among the people for money, were the biggest rogues of all.' This made the priest as angry as it made us merry.

When we had done laughing, Mocho asked us, how we baptised among our people? I answered that we had two ways of performing it; but that one way was, to plunge the baptised person under water. He replied promptly, 'now there is some sense in that;' adding that when a great quantity of rain fell from the clouds, it made the grass grow; but that it seemed to him that sprinkling a few drops of water amounted to nothing.

The priest, meanwhile, prophesied, that the peace between the Spaniards and Indians would be of very short duration. On the 18th, he left the mines, and returned to the place whence he had come. On the 20th, we started with some Indian guides to see a mountain of salt, that they assured us existed in their country. We travelled a northerly course through a heavily timbered country, the trees chiefly of pine and live oak. We killed a great number of bears and deer on the first day; and on account of their reverence for my father, they treated me as if I had been a prince. On the second we arrived at the salt hill, which is about one hundred miles north of the mines. The hill is about a quarter of a mile in length, and on the front side of it is the salt bluff, eight or ten feet in thickness. It has the appearance of a black rock, divided from the earthy matters, with which the salt is mixed. What was to me the most curious circumstance of the whole, was to see a fresh water spring boiling up within twenty feet from the salt bluff, which is a detached and solitary hill, rising out of a valley, which is of the richest and blackest soil, and heavily timbered [81] with oak, ash and black walnut. I remained here two days, during which I killed fifteen deer, that came to lick salt.

An Indian woman of our company dressed all my deer skins, and we loaded two mules with the salt, and started back to the mines, where we arrived the first of October. Nothing could have been more seasonable or acceptable to don Juan, than the salt we brought with us. Having mentioned these mines so often, perhaps it may not be amiss, to give a few details respecting them. Within the circumference of three miles, there is a mine of copper, gold and silver, and beside, a cliff of load stone. The silver mine is not worked, as not being so profitable, as either the copper or gold mines.

We remained here to the last of December, when the settlement was visited by a company of French trappers, who were bound for Red river.[61] We immediately made preparations to return with them, which again revived the apprehensions of don Juan, that the Indians would break in upon the settlement as soon as we were gone, and again put an end to the working of the mines. To detain us effectually, he proposed to rent the mines to us for five years, at a thousand dollars a year. He was willing to furnish provisions for the first year gratis, and pay us for all the improvements we should make on the establishment. We could not but be aware, that this was an excellent offer. My father accepted it. The writings were drawn, and my father rented the establishment on his own account, selecting such partners as he chose.

I, meanwhile, felt within me an irresistible propensity to resume the employment of trapping. I had a desire, which I can hardly describe, to see more of this strange and new country. My father suffered greatly in the view of my parting with him, and attempted to dissuade me from it. He strongly painted the dangers of the route, and represented to me, that I should not find these Frenchmen like my own country people, for companions. All was unavailing to change my fixed purpose, and we left the mines, January 2d, 1826.

We travelled down the river Helay, of which I have formerly [82] given a description, as far as the point where we had left it for Battle-hill. Here, although we saw fresh Indian signs, we met with no Indians. Where we encamped for the night, there were arrows sticking in the ground. We made an early start on the 16th, and at evening came upon the self same party of Indians, that had robbed us of our horses, the year past. Some of them had on articles of my father's clothes, that he had left where we buried our furs. They had made our beaver skins into robes, which we now purchased of them. While this bargain was transacting, I observed one of the Indians mounted on the self same horse, on which my father had travelled from the States. My blood instantly boiled within me, and, presenting my gun at him, I ordered him instantly to dismount. He immediately did as I bade him, and at once a trepidation and alarm ran through the whole party. They were but twenty men, and they were encumbered with women and children. We were thirteen, well mounted and armed. The chief of the party came to me, and asked me, 'if I knew this horse?' I answered, that 'I did, and that it was mine.' He asked me again, 'if we were the party, whose horses and furs they had taken the year before?' I answered, that I was one of them, and that if he did not cause my furs and horses to be delivered up to me, we would kill them all on the spot. He immediately brought me 150 skins and three horses, observing, that they had been famished, and had eaten the rest, and that he hoped this would satisfy me, for that in the battle they had suffered more than we, he having lost ten men, and we having taken from them four horses with their saddles and bridles. I observed to him in reply, that he must remember that they were the aggressors, and had provoked the quarrel, in having robbed us of our horses, and attempting to kill us. He admitted that they were the aggressors, in beginning the quarrel, but added, by way of apology, that they had thought us Spaniards, not knowing that we were Americans; but that now, when he knew us, he was willing to make peace, and be in perpetual friendship. On this we lit the pipe of peace, and smoked friends. I gave him some red [83] cloth, with which he was delighted. I then asked him about the different nations, through which our route would lead us? He named four nations, with names, as he pronounced them, sufficiently barbarous. All these nations he described as bad, treacherous and quarrelsome.

Though it was late in the evening, we resumed our march, until we had reached the point where the river runs between mountains, and where I had turned back the year before. There is here little timber, beside musqueto-wood, which stands thick. We passed through the country of the first two tribes, which the Indian chief had described to us, without meeting an individual of them. On the 25th, we arrived at an Indian village situated on the south bank of the river. Almost all the inhabitants of this village speak Spanish, for it is situated only three days journey from a Spanish fort in the province of Sonora,[62] through which province this river runs. The Indians seemed disposed to be friendly to us. They are to a considerable degree cultivators, raising wheat, corn and cotton, which they manufacture into cloths. We left this village on the 25th, and on the 28th in the evening arrived at the Papawar village, the inhabitants of which came running to meet us, with their faces painted, and their bows and arrows in their hands. We were alarmed at these hostile appearances, and halted. We told them that we were friends, at which they threw down their arms, laughing the while, and showing by their countenances that they were aware that we were frightened. We entered the village, and the French began to manifest their uncontrollable curiosity, by strolling about in every direction. I noted several crowds of Indians, collected in gangs, and talking earnestly. I called the leader of my French companions, and informed him that I did not like these movements of the Indians, and was fearful that they were laying a plan to cut us all up. He laughed at my fears, telling me I was a coward. I replied, that I did not think that to be cautious, and on our guard, was to show cowardice, and that I still thought it best for us to start [84] off. At this he became angry, and told me that I might go when I pleased, and that he would go when he was ready.

I then spoke to a Frenchman of our number, that I had known for a long time in Missouri; I proposed to him to join me, and we would leave the village and encamp by ourselves. He consented, and we went out of the village to the distance of about 400 yards, under the pretext of going there to feed our horses. When the sun was about half an hour high, I observed the French captain coming out towards us, accompanied by a great number of Indians, all armed with bows and arrows. This confirmed me in my conviction that they intended us no good. Expressing my apprehensions to my French companion, he observed in his peculiar style of English, that the captain was too proud and headstrong, to allow him to receive instruction from any one, for that he thought nobody knew any thing but himself.

Agreeing that we had best take care of ourselves, we made us a fire, and commenced our arrangements for spending the night. We took care not to unsaddle our horses, but to be in readiness to be off at a moment's warning. Our French captain came and encamped within a hundred yards of us, accompanied by not less than a hundred Indians. They were all exceedingly officious in helping the party unpack their mules; and in persuading the captain, that there was no danger in turning them all loose, they promised that they would guard them with their own horses. This proposal delighted the lazy Frenchmen, who hated to go through the details of preparing for encampment, and had a particular dislike to standing guard in the night. The Indian chief then proposed to the captain to stack their arms against a tree, that stood close by. To this also, under a kind of spell of infatuation he consented. The Indian chief took a rope, and tied the arms fast to a tree.

As I saw this, I told the captain that it seemed to me no mark of their being friendly, for them to retain their own arms, and persuade us to putting ours out of our power, and that one, who had known Indians, ought to be better acquainted with their character, than to encamp with them, without his men having [85] their own arms in their hand. On this he flew into a most violent passion, calling me, with a curse added to the epithet, a coward, wishing to God that he had never taken me with him, to dishearten his men, and render them insubordinate. Being remarkable neither for forbearance, or failing to pay a debt of hard words, I gave him as good as he sent, telling him, among other things no ways flattering, that he was a liar and a fool, for that none other than a fool would disarm his men, and go to sleep in the midst of armed savages in the woods. To this he replied, that he would not allow me to travel any longer in his company. I answered that I was not only willing, but desirous to leave him, for that I considered myself safer in my own single keeping, than under the escort of such a captain, and that I estimated him only to have sense enough to lead people to destruction.

He still continued to mutter harsh language in reply, as I returned to my own camp. It being now dusk, we prepared, and ate our supper. We had just finished it, when the head chief of the village came to invite us to take our supper with them, adding, by way of inducement, that they had brought some fine pumpkins to camp, and had cooked them for the white people. We told him, we had taken supper; and the more he insisted, the more resolutely we refused. Like the French captain, he began to abuse us, telling us we had bad hearts. We told him, that when with such people, we chose rather to trust to our heads than our hearts. He then asked us to let some of his warriors come and sleep with us, and share our blankets, alleging, as a reason for the request, that the nights were cold, and his warriors too poor to buy blankets. We told him, that he could easily see that we were poor also, and were no ways abundantly supplied with blankets, and that we should not allow them to sleep with us. He then marched off to the French camp, evidently sulky and in bad temper. While roundly rating us to the French captain, he gave as a reason why we ought not to sleep by ourselves, that we were in danger of being killed in the night by another tribe of Indians, with whom he was at war.

[86] The captain, apparently more calm, came to us, and told us, that our conduct was both imprudent and improper, in not conciliating the Indians by consenting to eat with them, or allowing them to sleep with us. My temper not having been at all sweetened by any thing that had occurred since we fell out, I told him, that if he had a fancy to eat, or sleep with these Indians, I had neither power nor the will to control him; but that, being determined, that neither he nor they should sleep with me, he had better go about his business, and not disturb me with useless importunity. At this he began again to abuse and revile me, to which I made no return. At length, having exhausted his stock of epithets, he returned to his camp.

As soon as we were by ourselves, we began to cut grass for our horses, not intending either to unsaddle, or let them loose for the night. My companion and myself were alike convinced, that some catastrophe was in reserve from the Indians, and seeing no chance of defending ourselves against an odds of more than twenty to one, we concluded, as soon as all should be silent in the camp, to fly. We packed our mules so as to leave none of our effects behind, and kept awake. We remained thus, until near midnight, when we heard a fierce whistle, which we instantly understood to be the signal for an attack on the French camp. But a moment ensued, before we heard the clashing of war clubs, followed by the shrieks and heavy groans of the dying French, mingled with the louder and more horrible yells of these treacherous and blood thirsty savages. A moment afterwards, we heard a party of them making towards us. To convince them that they could not butcher us in our defenceless sleep, we fired upon them. This caused them to retreat. Convinced that we had no time to lose, we mounted our horses, and fled at the extent of our speed. We heard a single gun discharged in the Indian camp, which we supposed the act of an Indian, who had killed the owner. We took our direction towards a high mountain on the south side of the river, and pushed for it as fast as we thought our horses could endure to be driven. We reached the mountain at day break, [87] and made our way about three miles up a creek, that issued from the mountain. Here we stopped to refresh our horses, and let them feed, and take food ourselves. The passage of the creek was along a kind of crevice of the mountain, and we were strongly convinced that the Indians would not follow upon our trail further than the entrance to the mountain. One of us ascended a high ridge, to survey whatever might be within view. My companion, having passed nearly an hour in the survey, returned to me, and said he saw something on the plain approaching us. I ascended with him to the same place, and plainly perceived something black approaching us. Having watched it for some time, I thought it a bear. At length it reached a tree on the plain, and ascended it. We were then convinced, that it was no Indian, but a bear searching food. We could see the smokes arising from the Indian town, and had no doubt, that the savages were dancing at the moment around the scalps of the unfortunate Frenchmen, who had fallen the victims of their indolence and rash confidence in these faithless people. All anger for their abuse of me for my timely advice was swallowed up in pity for their fate. But yesterday these people were the merriest of the merry. What were they now? Waiting a few moments, we saw the supposed bear descend the tree, and advance directly to the branch on which we were encamped. We had observed that the water of this branch, almost immediately upon touching the plain, was lost in the arid sand, and gave no other evidence of its existence, than a few green trees. In a moment we saw buttons glitter on this object from the reflected glare of the sun's rays. We were undeceived in regard to our bear, and now supposed it an Indian, decorated with a coat of the unfortunate Frenchmen. We concluded to allow him to approach close enough to satisfy our doubts, before we fired upon him. We lay still, until he came within fair rifle distance, when to our astonishment, we discovered it to be the French captain! We instantly made ourselves known from our perch. He uttered an exclamation of joy, and fell prostrate on the earth. Fatigue and [88] thirst had brought him to death's door. We raised him, and carried him to our camp. He was wounded in the head and face with many and deep wounds, the swelling of which had given him fever. I happened to have with me some salve, which my father gave me when I left the mines. I dressed his wounds. Having taken food, and sated his thirst, hope returned to him. So great was his change in a few hours, that he was able to move off with us that evening. In his present miserable and forlorn condition, I exercised too much humanity and forbearance to think of adverting to our quarrel of the preceding evening. Probably estimating my forbearance aright, he himself led to the subject. He observed in a tone apparently of deep compunction, that if he had had the good sense and good temper to have listened to my apprehensions and cautions, both he and his people might have been now gaily riding over the prairies. Oppressed with mixed feelings, I hardly knew what reply to make, and only remarked, that it was too late now to lament over what was unchangeable, and that the will of God had been done. After a silence of some time, he resumed the conversation, and related all the particulars of the terrible disaster, that had come to his knowledge. His own escape he owed to retaining a pocket pistol, when the rest of their arms were stacked. This he fired at an Indian approaching him, who fell, and thus enabled him to fly; not, however, until he had received a number of severe wounds from their clubs. I had not the heart to hear him relate what became of the rest of his comrades. I could easily divine that the treacherous savages had murdered every one. Feelings of deep and burning revenge arose in my bosom, and I longed for nothing so much as to meet with these monsters on any thing like terms of equality. About sunset we could distinctly discern the river bottom about five miles distant from us. When it became dark, we descried three fires close together, which we judged to be those of savages in pursuit of us. Like some white people, the Indians never forgive any persons that they have outraged and injured. We halted, and took counsel, what [89] was to be done. We concluded that my companion and myself should leave our wounded companion to take care of the horses, and go and reconnoitre the camp, in which were these fires, and discover the number of the Indians, and if it was great, to see how we could be most likely to pass them unobserved. When we had arrived close to the fires, we discovered a considerable number of horses tied, and only two men guarding them. We crawled still closer, to be able to discern their exact number and situation.

In this way we arrived within fifty yards of their camp, and could see no one, but the two, any where in the distance. We concluded, that all the rest of the company were asleep in some place out of our view. We presumed it would not be long before some of them would awake, it being now ten at night. Our intention was to take aim at them, as they should pass between us and their fire, and drop them both together. We could distinctly hear them speaking about their horses. At length one of them called to the other, in English, to go and wake their relief guards. Words would poorly express my feelings, at hearing these beloved sounds. I sprang from my crouching posture, and ran towards them. They were just ready to shoot me, when I cried a friend, a friend! One of them exclaimed, 'where in God's name did you spring from.' 'You seem to have come out of the earth.' The surprise and joy upon mutual recognition was great on both sides. I gave him a brief sketch of the recent catastrophe of our company, as we followed them to camp. The company was all roused and gathered round us, eagerly listening to the recital of our recent disaster. At hearing my sad story, they expressed the hearty sorrow of good and true men, and joined us in purposes of vengeance against the Indians.

We were now thirty-two in all. We fired twelve guns, a signal which the wounded captain heard and understood, for he immediately joined us. We waited impatiently for the morning. As soon as it was bright dawn, we all formed under a genuine American leader, who could be entirely relied upon. [90] His orders were, that twenty should march in front of the pack horses, and twelve behind. In the evening we encamped within five miles of the Indian village, and made no fires. In the morning of the 31st, we examined all our arms, and twenty-six of us started to attack the village. When we had arrived close to it, we discovered most fortunately, what we considered the dry bed of a creek, though we afterwards discovered it to be the old bed of the river, that had very high banks, and ran within a hundred yards of the village. In this bed we all formed ourselves securely and at our leisure, and marched quite near to the verge of the village without being discovered. Every man posted himself in readiness to fire. Two of our men were then ordered to show themselves on the top of the bank. They were immediately discovered by the Indians, who considered them, I imagine, a couple of the Frenchmen that they had failed to kill. They raised the yell, and ran towards the two persons, who instantly dropped down under the bank. There must have been at least 200 in pursuit. They were in a moment close on the bank. In order to prevent the escape of the two men, they spread into a kind of circle to surround them. This brought the whole body abreast of us. We allowed them to approach within twenty yards, when we gave them our fire. They commenced a precipitate retreat, we loading and firing as fast as was in our power. They made no pause in their village, but ran off, men, women and children, towards a mountain distant 700 yards from their village. In less than ten minutes, the village was so completely evacuated, that not a human being was to be found, save one poor old blind and deaf Indian, who sat eating his mush as unconcernedly as if all had been tranquil in the village. We did not molest him.

We appropriated to our own use whatever we found in the village that we judged would be of any service to us. We then set fire to their wigwams, and returned to our camp. They were paid a bloody price for their treachery, for 110 of them were slain. At twelve we returned to the village in a body, and retook all the horses of the Frenchmen, that they had killed. [91] We then undertook the sad duty of burying the remains of the unfortunate Frenchmen. A sight more horrible to behold, I have never seen. They were literally cut in pieces, and fragments of their bodies scattered in every direction, round which the monsters had danced, and yelled. We then descended the river about a mile below the village, to the point where it enters the Helay from the north. It affords as much water at this point as the Helay.

In the morning of the 1st of February, we began to ascend Black river.[63] We found it to abound with beavers. It is a most beautiful stream, bounded on each side with high and rich bottoms. We travelled up this stream to the point where it forks in the mountains; that is to say, about 80 miles from its mouth. Here our company divided, a part ascending one fork, and a part the other. The left fork heads due north, and the right fork north east. It was my lot to ascend the latter. It heads in mountains covered with snow, near the head of the left hand fork of the San Francisco. On the 16th, we all met again at the junction of the forks. The other division found that their fork headed in snow covered mountains, as they supposed near the waters of Red river. They had also met a tribe of Indians, who called themselves Mokee.[64] They found them no ways disposed to hostility. From their deportment it would seem as if they had never seen white people before. At the report of a gun they fell prostrate on the ground. They knew no other weapon of war than a sling, and with this they had so much dexterity and power, that they were able to bring down a deer at the distance of 100 yards.

We thence returned down the Helay, which is here about 200 yards wide, with heavily timbered bottoms. We trapped its whole course, from where we met it, to its junction with Red river. The point of junction is inhabited by a tribe of Indians called Umene.[65] Here we encamped for the night. On the morning of the 26th, a great many of these Indians crossed the river to our camp, and brought us dried beans, for which we paid them with red cloth, with which they were delighted beyond [92] measure, tearing it into ribbands, and tieing it round their arms and legs; for if the truth must be told, they were as naked as Adam and Eve in their birth day suit. They were the stoutest men, with the finest forms I ever saw, well proportioned, and as straight as an arrow. They contrive, however, to inflict upon their children an artificial deformity. They flatten their heads, by pressing a board upon their tender scalps, which they bind fast by a ligature. This board is so large and light, that I have seen women, when swimming the river with their children, towing them after them by a string, which they held in their mouth. The little things neither suffered nor complained, but floated behind their mothers like ducks.

At twelve we started up Red river, which is between two and three hundred yards wide, a deep, bold stream, and the water at this point entirely clear. The bottoms are a mile in general width, with exceedingly high, barren cliffs. The timber of the bottoms is very heavy, and the grass rank and high. Near the river are many small lakes, which abound in beavers.

March 1st we came among a tribe of Indians, called Cocomarecopper. At sight of us they deserted their wigwams, one and all, and fled to the mountains, leaving all their effects at our discretion. Of course we did not meddle with any thing. Their corn was knee high. We took care not to let our horses injure it, but marched as fast as we could from their village, to deprive them of their homes [in] as little time as possible. About four miles above the town we encamped, and set our traps. About twelve next day it began to rain, and we pitched our tents.

We had scarce kindled our fires, when 100 Indians came to our camp, all painted red in token of amity. They asked fire, and when we had given it, they went about 20 yards from us, and as the rain had been heavy and the air cool, they made a great fire, round which they all huddled. We gave them the bodies of six large fat beavers, which they cooked by digging holes in the ground, at the bottom of which they kindled fires, and on the fires threw the beavers which they covered with dirt. This dainty, thus prepared they greedily devoured, entrails [93] and all. Next morning, fearful that our guns might have experienced inconvenience from the rain, we fired them off to load them afresh. They were amazed and alarmed, to see us make, what they called thunder and lightning. They were still more startled, to see the bullet holes in the tree, at which we had aimed. We made signs to them, that one ball would pass through the body of two men. Some of our men had brought with them some scalps of the Papawars, the name of the tribe where our French captain lost his company. They informed us that they were at war with that tribe, and begged some of the scalps to dance round. They were given them, and they began to cut their horrid anticks about it.

Our traps had taken thirty beavers the last night. We gave them the meat of twenty, with which present they were delighted, their gratitude inducing them to manifest affection to us. They ate and danced all day and most of the night. On the morning of the 3d, they left us, returning to their camps. We resumed our march, and on the 6th arrived at another village of Indians called Mohawa. When we approached their village, they were exceedingly alarmed. We marched directly through their village, the women and children screaming, and hiding themselves in their huts. We encamped about three miles above the village. We had scarcely made our arrangements for the night, when 100 of these Indians followed us. The chief was a dark and sulky looking savage, and he made signs that he wanted us to give him a horse. We made as prompt signs of refusal. He replied to this, by pointing first to the river, and then at the furs we had taken, intimating, that the river, with all it contained, belonged to him; and that we ought to pay him for what we had taken, by giving him a horse. When he was again refused, he raised himself erect, with a stern and fierce air, and discharged his arrow into the tree, at the same time raising his hand to his mouth, and making their peculiar yell. Our captain made no other reply, than by raising his gun and shooting the arrow, as it still stuck in the tree, in two. The chief seemed bewildered with this mark of close [94] markmanship, and started off with his men. We had no small apprehensions of a night attack from these Indians. We erected a hasty fortification with logs and skins, but sufficiently high and thick, to arrest their arrows in case of attack. The night, contrary to our fears, passed without interruption from them. On the morning of the 7th, the chief returned on horse back, and in the same sulky tone again demanded a horse. The captain bade him be off, in a language and with a tone alike understood by all people. He started off on full gallop, and as he passed one of our horses, that was tied a few yards from the camp, he fired a spear through the animal. He had not the pleasure to exult in his revenge for more than fifty yards, before he fell pierced by four bullets. We could not doubt, that the Indians would attempt to revenge the death of their chief. After due consideration, we saw no better place in which to await their attack, than the one we now occupied. On the rear we were defended by the river, and in front by an open prairie. We made a complete breastwork, and posted spies in the limbs of the tall trees, to descry the Indians, if any approached us, while still at a distance. No Indians approached us through the day, and at night a heavy rain commenced falling. We posted sentinels, and secured our horses under the river bank. We kindled no fires, and we passed the night without annoyance. But at day break, they let fly at us a shower of arrows. Of these we took no notice. Perhaps, thinking us intimidated, they then raised the war whoop, and made a charge upon us. At the distance of 150 yards we gave them a volley of rifle balls. This brought them to a halt, and a moment after to a retreat, more rapid than their advance had been. We sallied out after them, and gave them the second round, which induced all, that were not forever stopped, to fly at the top of their speed. We had killed sixteen of their number. We returned to our camp, packed, and started, having made a determination not to allow any more Indians to enter our camp. This affair happened on the 9th.

We pushed on as rapidly as possible, fearful that these red [95] children of the desert, who appear to inherit an equal hatred of all whites, would follow us, and attack us in the night. With timely warning we had no fear of them by day, but the affair of the destruction of the French company, proved that they might become formidable foes by night. To prevent, as far as might be, such accidents, we raised a fortification round our camp every night, until we considered ourselves out of their reach, which was on the evening of the 12th. This evening we erected no breast-work, placed no other guard than one person to watch our horses, and threw ourselves in careless security round our fires. We had taken very little rest for four nights, and being exceedingly drowsy, we had scarcely laid ourselves down, before we were sound asleep. The Indians had still followed us, too far off to be seen by day, but had probably surveyed our camp each night. At about 11 o'clock this night, they poured upon us a shower of arrows, by which they killed two men, and wounded two more; and what was most provoking, fled so rapidly that we could not even give them a round. One of the slain was in bed with me. My own hunting shirt had two arrows in it, and my blanket was pinned fast to the ground by arrows. There were sixteen arrows discharged into my bed. We extinguished our fires, and it may easily be imagined, slept no more that night.

In the morning, eighteen of us started in pursuit of them, leaving the rest of the company to keep camp and bury our dead. We soon came upon their trail, and reached them late in the evening. They were encamped, and making their supper from the body of a horse. They got sight of us before we were within shooting distance, and fled. We put spurs to our horses, and overtook them just as they were entering a thicket. Having every advantage, we killed a greater part of them, it being a division of the band that had attacked us. We suspended those that we had killed upon the trees, and left their bodies to dangle in terror to the rest, and as a proof, how we retaliated aggression. We then returned to our company, who had each received sufficient warning not to encamp in the territories [96] of hostile Indians without raising a breast-work round the camp. Red river at this point bears a north course, and affords an abundance of the finest lands. We killed plenty of mountain sheep and deer, though no bears. We continued our march until the 16th, without seeing any Indians. On that day we came upon a small party, of whom the men fled, leaving a single woman. Seeing herself in our power, she began to beat her breast, and cry Cowera, Cowera; from which we gathered, that she belonged to that tribe. We treated her kindly, and travelled on. On the 23d, we came to a village of the Shuena Indians. As we approached it, they came out and began to fire arrows upon us. We gave them in return a round of rifle balls. In the excitement of an attack, we laughed heartily to see these sons of the desert dodge, and skulk away half bent, as though the heavens were falling upon them. From their manner we inferred, that they were in fact wholly unacquainted with white people, or at least they never before heard the report of a gun. The whole establishment dispersed to the mountains, and we marched through the village without seeing any inhabitants, except the bodies of those we had killed. We had received more than one lesson of caution, and we moved on with great circumspection. But so much of our time was taken up in defence and attacks, and fortifying our camps, that we had little leisure to trap. In order that our grand object should not be wholly defeated, we divided our men into two companies, the one to trap and the other to keep guard. This expedient at once rendered our trapping very productive. We discovered little change in the face of the country. The course of the river still north, flowing through a rich valley, skirted with high mountains, the summits of which were white with snow.

On the 25th we reached a small stream,[66] emptying into Red river through the east bank, up which we detached three men, each carrying a trap, to discover if beavers abounded in that stream. They were to return the next day, while we were engaged in shoeing our horses. The next day elapsed, but none returned. We became anxious about their fate; and on the [97] 27th, started to see what had become of them. At mid-day we found their bodies cut in pieces, and spitted before a great fire, after the same fashion which is used in roasting beaver. The Indians who had murdered them, saw us as we came on, and fled to the mountains, so that we had no chance of avenging the death of our unfortunate companions. We gathered the fragments of their bodies together and buried them. With sadness in our hearts, and dejection on our countenances, we returned to our camp, struck our tents, and marched on. The temperature in this region is rather severe, and we were wretchedly clad to encounter the cold.

On the 28th, we reached a point of the river where the mountains shut in so close upon its shores, that we were compelled to climb a mountain, and travel along the acclivity, the river still in sight, and at an immense depth beneath us.[67]—Through this whole distance, which we judged to be, as the river meanders, 100 leagues, we had snow from a foot to eighteen inches deep. The river bluffs on the opposite shore, were never more than a mile from us. It is perhaps, this very long and formidable range of mountains, which has caused, that this country of Red river, has not been more explored, at least by the American people. A march more gloomy and heart-wearing, to people hungry, poorly clad, and mourning the loss of their companions, cannot be imagined. Our horses had picked a little herbage, and had subsisted on the bark of shrubs. Our provisions were running low, and we expected every hour to see our horses entirely give out.

April 10th, we arrived where the river emerges from these horrid mountains, which so cage it up, as to deprive all human beings of the ability to descend to its banks, and make use of its waters. No mortal has the power of describing the pleasure I felt, when I could once more reach the banks of the river.—Our traps, by furnishing us beavers, soon enabled us to renew our stock of provisions. We likewise killed plenty of elk, and dressed their skins for clothing. On the 13th we reached another part of the river, emptying into the main river from the [98] north. Up this we all trapped two days. During this excursion we met a band of hostile Indians, who attacked us with an unavailing discharge of arrows, of whom we killed four.

On the 15th, we returned to the banks of Red river, which is here a clear beautiful stream. We moved very slowly, for our beasts were too lean and worn down, to allow us to do otherwise. On the 16th we met with a large party of the Shoshonees,[68] a tribe of Indians famous for the extent of their wanderings, and for the number of white people they had killed, by pretending friendship to them, until they found them disarmed, or asleep. One of our company could speak their language, from having been a prisoner among them for a year. They were warmly clad with buffaloe robes, and they had muskets, which we knew they must have taken from the white people. We demanded of them to give up the fire arms, which they refused. On this we gave them our fire, and they fled to the mountains, leaving their women and children in our power.—We had no disposition to molest them. We learned from these women, that they had recently destroyed a company of French hunters on the head waters of the Platte. We found six of their yet fresh scalps, which so exasperated us, that we hardly refrained from killing the women. We took from them all the beaver skins which they had taken from the slain French, and five of their mules, and added to our provisions their stock of dried buffaloe meat. We had killed eight of their men, and we mortified the women excessively, by compelling them to exchange the scalps of the unfortunate Frenchmen for those of their own people.

We resumed our march, and ascended the river to the point where it forked again, neither fork being more than from twenty-five to thirty yards wide. On the 19th, we began to ascend the right hand fork, which pursues a N. E. course.[69] On the 23d, we arrived at the chief village of the Nabahoes, a tribe that we knew to be friendly to the whites. We enquired of them, if we could cross the Rocky Mountains best at the head of this fork or the other; and they informed us, that the mountains [99] were impassable, except by following the left hand fork. Knowing that they were at war with the Shoshonee, we let them know how many of them we had killed. With this they were delighted, and gave us eight horses, one for each man we had slain. They sent with us, moreover, ten Indians to point out to us the route, in which to cross the mountains.

On the 25th, we started up the left hand fork, and arrived on the 30th, in the country of the Pewee tribe,[70] who are friendly to the Nabahoes. Their chief village is situated within two days' travel of the low gap, at which we were to cross the mountains, at which gap we arrived on the first of May.[71] The crossing was a work, the difficulty of which may be imagined from the nature of the case and the character of the mountains.—The passage occupied six days, during which we had to pass along compact drifts of snow, higher than a man on horseback. The narrow path through these drifts is made by the frequent passing of buffaloes, of which we found many dead bodies in the way. We had to pack cotton-wood bark on the horses for their own eating, and the wood necessary to make fires for our cooking. Nothing is to be seen among these mountains, but bare peaks and perpetual snow. Every one knows, that these mountains divide between the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. At the point where we crossed them, they run in a direction a little north of west, and south of east, further than the eye can reach.

On the 7th, we struck the south fork of the Platte, near Long's Peak,[72] and descended it five days. We then struck across the plain to the main Platte, on which we arrived on the 16th. In descending it we found the beavers scarce, for all these rivers had been thoroughly trapped. The river is skirted with only a few small willows, and the country is open prairie, entirely destitute of trees. We saw immense droves of elk, buffaloes, and white bears, which haunt the buffaloe range to prey upon those noble animals. We had the merriest sport imaginable, in chasing the buffaloes over these perfectly level plains, and shooting them with the arrows we had taken from the Indians [100] we had killed. I have killed myself, and seen others kill a buffaloe, with a single shot of an arrow. The bows are made with ribs of buffaloes, and drive the arrows with prodigious force. On the 20th, we left this river and started for the Big Horn,[73] a fork of the Yellow Stone, itself a considerable river of the Missouri. We reached the Big Horn on the 31st, and found but few beavers. June 2d, we struck over towards the main Yellow Stone,[74] and on the 3d entered the country of the Flat Heads, who were entirely friendly.[75] We purchased some furs of them. They are Indians of exceedingly handsome forms, were it not for the horrid deformity of their heads, which are transversely from ear to ear but a few inches in diameter, and in the other direction monstrous, giving them the appearance of wearing a military cap with all its plumage. This plumage is furnished by their matted tresses of hair, painted and skewered up to a high point. This monstrosity is occasioned by binding two pieces of board on each side of the head of the new-born infant, which is kept secure with bandages, until the child is three years old, at which time the head bones have acquired a firmness to retain their then shape during life. On the 11th, we reached the Yellow Stone, and ascended it to its head; and thence crossed the ridges of the Rocky Mountains to Clarke's fork of the Columbia.[76] But all these streams had been so much trapped, as to yield but few beavers. Clarke's fork is a hundred yards wide, a bold, clear, pleasant stream, remarkable for the number and excellence of its fish, and most beautiful country of fertile land on its shores. We ascended this river to its head, which is in Long's Peak, near the head waters of the Platte. We thence struck our course for the head waters of the Arkansas, on which we arrived July 1st. Here we met a band of the Grasshopper Indians, who derive their name from gathering grasshoppers, drying them, and pulverizing them, with the meal of which they make mush and bread; and this is their chief article of food. They are so little improved, as not even to have furnished themselves with [101] the means of killing buffaloes. At sight of us, these poor two-legged animals, dodged into the high grass like so many partridges.

We marched up this stream, trapping for the few beavers which it afforded. Its banks are scantily timbered, being only skirted with a few willows. On the 5th, we met a war party of the Black Foot Indians,[77] all well mounted. As soon as they saw us, they came fiercely upon us, yelling as though the spirit of darkness had loaned them the voices of all his tenants. We dismounted, and as soon as they were within shooting distance, we gave them our fire, which they promptly returned. The contest was fierce for something more than 20 minutes, a part of the time not more than 50 yards apart. They then retreated, and we mounted our horses, and gave them chase, though unavailingly, for their horses were as fleet as the wind, compared with ours. We soon desisted from so useless a pursuit, and returned to the battle ground. We found sixteen Blackfeet dead, and with infinite anguish, counted four of our own companions weltering in their blood. We buried them with sorrowful hearts, and eyes full of tears. Ah! Among those who live at home, surrounded by numerous relations and friends, in the midst of repose, plenty and security, when one of the number droops, and dies with sickness or age, his removal leaves a chasm that is not filled for years. Think how we must have mourned these brave men, who had shared so many dangers, and on whose courage and aid we had every day relied for protection. Here on these remote plains, far from their friends, they had fallen by the bloody arrow or spear of these red, barbarous Ishmaelites of the desert, but neither unwept nor unrevenged. Having performed the sad task of depositing the bodies of these once warm hearted friends in the clay, we ascended to the head of this river, and crossed the mountain that separates its waters from those of the Rio del Norte, which river we struck on the 20th. We began to descend it, and on the 23d met a band of the Nabahoes, who accompanied us [102] quite to their chief village. It will be seen, that all these streams upon which we have been trapping, rise from sources which interlock with each other, and the same range of peaks at very short distances from each other. These form the heads of Red river of the east, and the Colorado of the west, Rio del Norte, Arkansas, Platte, Yellow Stone, Missouri and Columbia. The village of these Indians is distant 50 miles from the Rio del Norte. We remained at it two days, and rested our horses, and refreshed ourselves. This tribe some years since had been at war with the Spanish, during which they plundered them of great numbers of horses, mules and cattle, which caused that they had now large stocks of these animals, together with flocks of sheep. They raise a great abundance of grain, and manufacture their wool much better than the Spanish. On the first of August we arrived at Santa Fe, with a fine amount of furs. Here disaster awaited us. The Governor, on the pretext that we had trapped without a license from him, robbed us of all our furs. We were excessively provoked, and had it not been from a sense of duty to our own beloved country, we would have redressed our wrongs, and retaken our furs with our own arms.

Here I remained until the 18th, disposing of a part of my goods, and reserving the remainder for a trip which I contemplated to the province of Sonora. I had the pleasure once more of receiving the affectionate greeting of Jacova, who gave me the most earnest counsels to quit this dangerous and rambling way of life, and settle myself down in a house of my own. I thanked her for her kindness and good counsel, and promised to follow it, after rambling another year in the wilderness.—Thence I went to the mines, where I had the inexpressible satisfaction again to embrace my dear father, whom I found in perfect health, and making money rapidly. I remained there three days, and, accompanied with one servant, arrived in Hanas on the first of September. This is a small town situated in the province of Biscay, between the province of Sonora and New Mexico, in a direction S. W. from the copper mines.[78] [103] The country is generally of that character, denominated in Kentucky, barren. The soil is level and black. These people raise a great quantity of stock, such as horses, cows, sheep and goats. Their farming implements are clumsy and indifferent. They use oxen entirely in their agriculture. Their ploughs are a straight piece of timber, five feet long and eight inches thick, mortised for two other pieces of timber, one to be fitted to the beam, by which the oxen draw, and another to the handle, by which the man holds the plough. The point that divides the soil, is of wood, and hewed sloping to such a point, that a hollow piece of iron is fastened on it at the end. This is one inch thick, and three inches broad at top, and slopes also to a point.

Their hoes, axes and other tools are equally indifferent; and they are precisely in such a predicament, as might be expected of a people who have no saw mills, no labor saving machinery, and do every thing by dint of hard labor, and are withal very indolent and unenterprising.

I amused myself at times with an old man, who daily fell in my way, who was at once rich and to the last degree a miser; and yet devotedly attached to the priests, who were alone able to get a little money out of him. He often spoke to me about the unsafeness of my religion. Instead of meeting his remarks with an argument, I generally affronted him at once, and then diverted myself with his ways of showing his anger. I told him that his priest treated him as the Spanish hostlers do their horses. He asked me to explain the comparison. I observed, 'you know how the hostler in the first place throws his lasso over the mule's neck. That secures the body of the beast. Next the animal is blindfolded. That hinders his seeing where he is led. Next step he binds the saddle safe and fast. Then the holy father rigs his heels with spurs. Next come spur and lash, and the animal is now restive to no purpose. There is no shaking off the rider. On he goes, till the animal under him dies, and both go to hell together!' At this he flew into such a violent rage, as to run at me with his knife. I dodged out of his [104] way, and appeased him by convincing him that I was in jest. The rich, in their way of living, unite singular contrasts of magnificence and meanness. For instance, they have few of the useful articles of our dining and tea sets, but a great deal of massive silver plate, and each guest a silver fork and spoon. The dining room is contiguous to the kitchen. A window is thrown open, and the cook hands a large dish through the window to a servant, who bears it to the table. The entertainer helps himself first, and passes the dish round to all the guests. Then another and another is brought on, often to the number of sixteen. All are savored so strong with garlic and red pepper, that an American at first cannot eat them. The meat is boiled to such a consistency that a spoon manages it better than a knife. At the close of the dinner they bring in wine and cigars, and they sit and smoke and drink wine until drowsiness steals upon them, and they go to bed for their siesta. They sleep until three in the afternoon, at which time the church bell tolls. They rise, take a cup of chocolate, and handle the wine freely. This short affair over, they return and sit down on the shaded side of the house, and chatter like so many geese till night, when they divide, a part to mass, and a part to the card table, where I have seen the poor, betting their shirts, hats and shoes. The village contains 700 souls.

On the 6th, I departed from this town, travelling a west course through a most beautiful country, the plains of which were covered with domestic animals running wild. On the 8th I arrived at the foot of the mountain, that divides the province of Sonora from Biscay. I slept at a country seat, where they were making whiskey of a kind of plantain, of which I have spoken before, which they called Mascal (Maguey). Here were assembled great numbers of Spaniards and Indians. They were soon drunk, and as a matter of course, fighting with knives and clubs. In the morning, two Spaniards and one Indian were found dead. Late in the morning, a file of soldiers arrived, and took the suspected murderers to prison.