FROM THE MIDDLE to the end of May, Captain Bonneville pursued a western
course over
vast undulating plains, destitute of tree or shrub, rendered miry by
occasional rain, and cut up
by deep water-courses where they had to dig roads for their wagons down
the soft crumbling
banks and to throw bridges across the streams. The weather had attained
the summer heat;
the thermometer standing about fifty-seven degrees in the morning, early,
but rising to about
ninety degrees at noon. The incessant breezes, however, which sweep these
vast plains
render the heats endurable. Game was scanty, and they had to eke out their
scanty fare with
wild roots and vegetables, such as the Indian potato, the wild onion, and
the prairie tomato,
and they met with quantities of "red root," from which the hunters make a
very palatable
beverage. The only human being that crossed their path was a Kansas
warrior, returning from
some solitary expedition of bravado or revenge, bearing a Pawnee scalp as
a trophy.
The country gradually rose as they proceeded westward, and their route
took them over high
ridges, commanding wide and beautiful prospects. The vast plain was
studded on the west
with innumerable hills of conical shape, such as are seen north of the
Arkansas River. These
hills have their summits apparently cut off about the same elevation, so
as to leave flat
surfaces at top. It is conjectured by some that the whole country may
originally have been of
the altitude of these tabular hills; but through some process of nature
may have sunk to its
present level; these insulated eminences being protected by broad
foundations of solid rock.
Captain Bonneville mentions another geological phenomenon north of Red
River, where the
surface of the earth, in considerable tracts of country, is covered with
broad slabs of
sandstone, having the form and position of grave-stones, and looking as if
they had been
forced up by some subterranean agitation. "The resemblance," says he,
"which these very
remarkable spots have in many places to old church-yards is curious in the
extreme. One
might almost fancy himself among the tombs of the pre-Adamites."
On the 2d of June, they arrived on the main stream of the Nebraska or
Platte River;
twenty-five
miles below the head of the Great Island. The low banks of this river give
it an appearance of
great width. Captain Bonneville measured it in one place, and found it
twenty-two hundred
yards from bank to bank. Its depth was from three to six feet, the bottom
full of quicksands.
The Nebraska is studded with islands covered with that species of poplar
called the cotton-wood
tree. Keeping up along the course of this river for several days, they
were obliged, from
the scarcity of game, to put themselves upon short allowance, and,
occasionally, to kill a steer.
They bore their daily labors and privations, however, with great good
humor, taking their tone,
in all probability, from the buoyant spirit of their leader. "If the
weather was inclement," said the
captain, "we watched the clouds, and hoped for a sight of the blue sky and
the merry sun. If
food was scanty, we regaled ourselves with the hope of soon falling in
with herds of buffalo,
and having nothing to do but slay and eat." We doubt whether the genial
captain is not
describing the cheeriness of his own breast, which gave a cheery aspect to
everything around
him.
There certainly were evidences, however, that the country was not
always equally destitute of
game. At one place, they observed a field decorated with buffalo skulls,
arranged in circles,
curves, and other mathematical figures, as if for some mystic rite or
ceremony. They were
almost innumerable, and seemed to have been a vast hecatomb offered up in
thanksgiving to
the Great Spirit for some signal success in the chase.
On the 11th of June, they came to the fork of the Nebraska, where it
divides itself into two
equal and beautiful streams. One of these branches rises in the
west-southwest, near the
headwaters of the Arkansas. Up the course of this branch, as Captain
Bonneville was well
aware, lay the route to the Camanche and Kioway Indians, and to the
northern Mexican
settlements; of the other branch he knew nothing. Its sources might lie
among wild and
inaccessible cliffs, and tumble and foam down rugged defiles and over
craggy precipices; but
its direction was in the true course, and up this stream he determined to
prosecute his route to
the Rocky Mountains. Finding it impossible, from quicksands and other
dangerous
impediments, to cross the river in this neighborhood, he kept up along the
south fork for two
days, merely seeking a safe fording place. At length he encamped, caused
the bodies of the
wagons to be dislodged from the wheels, covered with buffalo hide, and
besmeared with a
compound of tallow and ashes; thus forming rude boats. In these, they
ferried their effects
across the stream, which was six hundred yards wide, with a swift and
strong current. Three
men were in each boat, to manage it; others waded across pushing the barks
before them.
Thus all crossed in safety. A march of nine miles took them over high
rolling prairies to the
north fork; their eyes being regaled with the welcome sight of herds of
buffalo at a distance,
some careering the plain, others grazing and reposing in the natural
meadows.
Skirting along the north fork for a day or two, excessively annoyed by
musquitoes and buffalo
gnats, they reached, in the evening of the 17th, a small but beautiful
grove, from which issued
the confused notes of singing birds, the first they had heard since
crossing the boundary of
Missouri. After so many days of weary travelling through a naked,
monotonous and silent
country, it was delightful once more to hear the song of the bird, and to
behold the verdure of
the grove. It was a beautiful sunset, and a sight of the glowing rays,
mantling the tree-tops and
rustling branches, gladdened every heart. They pitched their camp in the
grove, kindled their
fires, partook merrily of their rude fare, and resigned themselves to the
sweetest sleep they
had enjoyed since their outset upon the prairies.
The country now became rugged and broken. High bluffs advanced upon the
river, and forced
the travellers occasionally to leave its banks and wind their course into
the interior. In one of
the wild and solitary passes they were startled by the trail of four or
five pedestrians, whom
they supposed to be spies from some predatory camp of either Arickara or
Crow Indians. This
obliged them to redouble their vigilance at night, and to keep especial
watch upon their horses.
In these rugged and elevated regions they began to see the black-tailed
deer, a species larger
than the ordinary kind, and chiefly found in rocky and mountainous
countries. They had
reached also a great buffalo range; Captain Bonneville ascended a high
bluff, commanding an
extensive view of the surrounding plains. As far as his eye could reach,
the country seemed
absolutely blackened by innumerable herds. No language, he says, could
convey an adequate
idea of the vast living mass thus presented to his eye. He remarked that
the bulls and cows
generally congregated in separate herds.
Opposite to the camp at this place was a singular phenomenon, which is
among the curiosities
of the country. It is called the chimney. The lower part is a conical
mound, rising out of the
naked plain; from the summit shoots up a shaft or column, about one
hundred and twenty feet
in height, from which it derives its name. The height of the whole,
according to Captain
Bonneville, is a hundred and seventy-five yards. It is composed of
indurated clay, with
alternate layers of red and white sandstone, and may be seen at the
distance of upward of
thirty miles.
On the 21st, they encamped amidst high and beetling cliffs of indurated clay and sandstone, bearing the semblance of towers, castles, churches, and fortified cities. At a distance, it was scarcely possible to persuade one's self that the works of art were not mingled with these fantastic freaks of nature. They have received the name of Scott's Bluffs, from a melancholy circumstance. A number of years since, a party were descending the upper part of the river in canoes, when their frail barks were overturned and all their powder spoiled. Their rifles being thus rendered useless, they were unable to procure food by hunting and had to depend upon roots and wild fruits for subsistence. After suffering extremely from hunger, they arrived at Laramie's Fork, a small tributary of the north branch of the Nebraska, about sixty miles above the cliffs just mentioned. Here one of the party, by the name of Scott, was taken ill; and his companions came to a halt, until he should recover health and strength sufficient to proceed. While they were searching round in quest of edible roots, they discovered a fresh trail of white men, who had evidently but recently preceded them. What was to be done? By a forced march they might overtake this party, and thus be able to reach the settlements in safety. Should they linger, they might all perish of famine and exhaustion. Scott, however, was incapable of moving; they were too feeble to aid him forward, and dreaded that such a clog would prevent their coming up with the advance party. They determined, therefore, to abandon him to his fate. Accordingly, under presence of seeking food, and such simples as might be efficacious in his malady, they deserted him and hastened forward upon the trail. They succeeded in overtaking the party of which they were in quest, but concealed their faithless desertion of Scott; alleging that he had died of disease.
On the ensuing summer, these very individuals visiting these parts in
company with others, came
suddenly upon the bleached bones and grinning
skull of a human skeleton, which, by certain signs they recognized for the
remains of Scott.
This was sixty long miles from the place where they had abandoned him; and
it appeared that
the wretched man had crawled that immense distance before death put an end
to his miseries.
The wild and picturesque bluffs in the neighborhood of his lonely grave
have ever since borne
his name.
Amidst this wild and striking scenery, Captain Bonneville, for the
first time, beheld flocks of
the
ahsahta or bighorn, an animal which frequents these cliffs in great
numbers. They accord with
the nature of such scenery, and add much to its romantic effect; bounding
like goats from crag
to crag, often trooping along the lofty shelves of the mountains, under
the guidance of some
venerable patriarch with horns twisted lower than his muzzle, and
sometimes peering over the
edge of a precipice, so high that they appear scarce bigger than crows;
indeed, it seems a
pleasure to them to seek the most rugged and frightful situations,
doubtless from a feeling of
security.
This animal is commonly called the mountain sheep, and is often
confounded with another
animal, the "woolly sheep," found more to the northward, about the country
of the Flatheads.
The latter likewise inhabits cliffs in summer, but descends into the
valleys in the winter. It has
white wool, like a sheep, mingled with a thin growth of long hair; but it
has short legs, a deep
belly, and a beard like a goat. Its horns are about five inches long,
slightly curved backwards,
black as jet, and beautifully polished. Its hoofs are of the same color.
This animal is by no
means so active as the bighorn; it does not bound much, but sits a good
deal upon its
haunches. It is not so plentiful either; rarely more than two or three are
seen at a time. Its wool
alone gives a resemblance to the sheep; it is more properly of the flesh
is said to have a musty
flavor; some have thought the fleece might be valuable, as it is said to
be as fine as that of the goat
Cashmere, but it is not to be procured in sufficient quantities.
The ahsahta, argali, or bighorn, on the contrary, has short hair like a deer, and resembles it in shape, but has the head and horns of a sheep, and its flesh is said to be delicious mutton. The Indians consider it more sweet and delicate than any other kind of venison. It abounds in the Rocky Mountains, from the fiftieth degree of north latitude, quite down to California; generally in the highest regions capable of vegetation; sometimes it ventures into the valleys, but on the least alarm, regains its favorite cliffs and precipices, where it is perilous, if not impossible for the hunter to follow.