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Adventures of Captain Bonneville, The
CHAPTER 28
Washington Irving
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       CHAPTER 28
       A region of natural curiosities - The plain of white clay - Hot springs - The Beer Spring - Departure to seek the free trappers - Plain of Portneuf - Lava - Chasms and gullies - Bannack Indians - Their hunt of the buffalo - Hunter's feast - Trencher heroes - Bullying of an absent foe - The damp comrade - The Indian spy -Meeting with Hodgkiss - His adventures - Poordevil Indians - Triumph of the
       Bannacks - Blackfeet policy in war
       CROSSING AN ELEVATED RIDGE, Captain Bonneville now came upon Bear
       River, which, from its source to its entrance into the Great Salt
       Lake, describes the figure of a horse-shoe. One of the principal
       head waters of this river, although supposed to abound with
       beaver, has never been visited by the trapper; rising among
       rugged mountains, and being barricadoed [sic] by fallen pine
       trees and tremendous precipices.
       Proceeding down this river, the party encamped, on the 6th of
       November, at the outlet of a lake about thirty miles long, and
       from two to three miles in width, completely imbedded in low
       ranges of mountains, and connected with Bear River by an
       impassable swamp. It is called the Little Lake, to distinguish it
       from the great one of salt water.
       On the 10th of November, Captain Bonneville visited a place in
       the neighborhood which is quite a region of natural curiosities.
       An area of about half a mile square presents a level surface of
       white clay or fuller's earth, perfectly spotless, resembling a
       great slab of Parian marble, or a sheet of dazzling snow. The
       effect is strikingly beautiful at all times: in summer, when it
       is surrounded with verdure, or in autumn, when it contrasts its
       bright immaculate surface with the withered herbage. Seen from a
       distant eminence, it then shines like a mirror, set in the brown
       landscape. Around this plain are clustered numerous springs of
       various sizes and temperatures. One of them, of scalding heat,
       boils furiously and incessantly, rising to the height of two or
       three feet. In another place, there is an aperture in the earth,
       from which rushes a column of steam that forms a perpetual cloud.
       The ground for some distance around sounds hollow, and startles
       the solitary trapper, as he hears the tramp of his horse giving
       the sound of a muffled drum. He pictures to himself a mysterious
       gulf below, a place of hidden fires, and gazes round him with awe
       and uneasiness.
       The most noted curiosity, however, of this singular region, is
       the Beer Spring, of which trappers give wonderful accounts. They
       are said to turn aside from their route through the country to
       drink of its waters, with as much eagerness as the Arab seeks
       some famous well of the desert. Captain Bonneville describes it
       as having the taste of beer. His men drank it with avidity, and
       in copious draughts. It did not appear to him to possess any
       medicinal properties, or to produce any peculiar effects. The
       Indians, however, refuse to taste it, and endeavor to persuade
       the white men from doing so.
       We have heard this also called the Soda Spring, and described as
       containing iron and sulphur. It probably possesses some of the
       properties of the Ballston water.
       The time had now arrived for Captain Bonneville to go in quest of
       the party of free trappers, detached in the beginning of July,
       under the command of Mr. Hodgkiss, to trap upon the head waters
       of Salmon River. His intention was to unite them with the party
       with which he was at present travelling, that all might go into
       quarters together for the winter. Accordingly, on the 11th of
       November, he took a temporary leave of his band, appointing a
       rendezvous on Snake River, and, accompanied by three men, set out
       upon his journey. His route lay across the plain of the Portneuf,
       a tributary stream of Snake River, called after an unfortunate
       Canadian trapper murdered by the Indians. The whole country
       through which he passed bore evidence of volcanic convulsions and
       conflagrations in the olden time. Great masses of lava lay
       scattered about in every direction; the crags and cliffs had
       apparently been under the action of fire; the rocks in some
       places seemed to have been in a state of fusion; the plain was
       rent and split with deep chasms and gullies, some of which were
       partly filled with lava.
       They had not proceeded far, however, before they saw a party of
       horsemen, galloping full tilt toward them. They instantly turned,
       and made full speed for the covert of a woody stream, to fortify
       themselves among the trees. The Indians came to a halt, and one
       of them came forward alone. He reached Captain Bonneville and his
       men just as they were dismounting and about to post themselves. A
       few words dispelled all uneasiness. It was a party of twenty-five
       Bannack Indians, friendly to the whites, and they proposed,
       through their envoy, that both parties should encamp together,
       and hunt the buffalo, of which they had discovered several large
       herds hard by. Captain Bonneville cheerfully assented to their
       proposition, being curious to see their manner of hunting.
       Both parties accordingly encamped together on a convenient spot,
       and prepared for the hunt. The Indians first posted a boy on a
       small hill near the camp, to keep a look-out for enemies. The
       "runners," then, as they are called, mounted on fleet horses, and
       armed with bows and arrows, moved slowly and cautiously toward
       the buffalo, keeping as much as possible out of sight, in hollows
       and ravines. When within a proper distance, a signal was given,
       and they all opened at once like a pack of hounds, with a full
       chorus of yells, dashing into the midst of the herds, and
       launching their arrows to the right and left. The plain seemed
       absolutely to shake under the tramp of the buffalo, as they
       scoured off. The cows in headlong panic, the bulls furious with
       rage, uttering deep roars, and occasionally turning with a
       desperate rush upon their pursuers. Nothing could surpass the
       spirit, grace, and dexterity, with which the Indians managed
       their horses; wheeling and coursing among the affrighted herd,
       and launching their arrows with unerring aim. In the midst of the
       apparent confusion, they selected their victims with perfect
       judgment, generally aiming at the fattest of the cows, the flesh
       of the bull being nearly worthless, at this season of the year.
       In a few minutes, each of the hunters had crippled three or four
       cows. A single shot was sufficient for the purpose, and the
       animal, once maimed, was left to be completely dispatched at the
       end of the chase. Frequently, a cow was killed on the spot by a
       single arrow. In one instance, Captain Bonneville saw an Indian
       shoot his arrow completely through the body of a cow, so that it
       struck in the ground beyond. The bulls, however, are not so
       easily killed as the cows, and always cost the hunter several
       arrows; sometimes making battle upon the horses, and chasing them
       furiously, though severely wounded, with the darts still sticking
       in their flesh.
       The grand scamper of the hunt being over, the Indians proceeded
       to dispatch the animals that had been disabled; then cutting up
       the carcasses, they returned with loads of meat to the camp,
       where the choicest pieces were soon roasting before large fires,
       and a hunters' feast succeeded; at which Captain Bonneville and
       his men were qualified, by previous fasting, to perform their
       parts with great vigor.
       Some men are said to wax valorous upon a full stomach, and such
       seemed to be the case with the Bannack braves, who, in proportion
       as they crammed themselves with buffalo meat, grew stout of
       heart, until, the supper at an end, they began to chant war
       songs, setting forth their mighty deeds, and the victories they
       had gained over the Blackfeet. Warming with the theme, and
       inflating themselves with their own eulogies, these magnanimous
       heroes of the trencher would start up, advance a short distance
       beyond the light of the fire, and apostrophize most vehemently
       their Blackfeet enemies, as though they had been within hearing.
       Ruffling, and swelling, and snorting, and slapping their breasts,
       and brandishing their arms, they would vociferate all their
       exploits; reminding the Blackfeet how they had drenched their
       towns in tears and blood; enumerate the blows they had inflicted,
       the warriors they had slain, the scalps they had brought off in
       triumph. Then, having said everything that could stir a man's
       spleen or pique his valor, they would dare their imaginary
       hearers, now that the Bannacks were few in number, to come and
       take their revenge--receiving no reply to this valorous bravado,
       they would conclude by all kinds of sneers and insults, deriding
       the Blackfeet for dastards and poltroons, that dared not accept
       their challenge. Such is the kind of swaggering and rhodomontade
       in which the "red men" are prone to indulge in their vainglorious
       moments; for, with all their vaunted taciturnity, they are
       vehemently prone at times to become eloquent about their
       exploits, and to sound their own trumpet.
       Having vented their valor in this fierce effervescence, the
       Bannack braves gradually calmed down, lowered their crests,
       smoothed their ruffled feathers, and betook themselves to sleep,
       without placing a single guard over their camp; so that, had the
       Blackfeet taken them at their word, but few of these braggart
       heroes might have survived for any further boasting.
       On the following morning, Captain Bonneville purchased a supply
       of buffalo meat from his braggadocio friends; who, with all their
       vaporing, were in fact a very forlorn horde, destitute of
       firearms, and of almost everything that constitutes riches in
       savage life. The bargain concluded, the Bannacks set off for
       their village, which was situated, they said, at the mouth of the
       Portneuf, and Captain Bonneville and his companions shaped their
       course toward Snake River.
       Arrived on the banks of that river, he found it rapid and
       boisterous, but not too deep to be forded. In traversing it,
       however, one of the horses was swept suddenly from his footing,
       and his rider was flung from the saddle into the midst of the
       stream. Both horse and horseman were extricated without any
       damage, excepting that the latter was completely drenched, so
       that it was necessary to kindle a fire to dry him. While they
       were thus occupied, one of the party looking up, perceived an
       Indian scout cautiously reconnoitring them from the summit of a
       neighboring hill. The moment he found himself discovered, he
       disappeared behind the hill. From his furtive movements, Captain
       Bonneville suspected him to be a scout from the Blackfeet camp,
       and that he had gone to report what he had seen to his
       companions. It would not do to loiter in such a neighborhood, so
       the kindling of the fire was abandoned, the drenched horseman
       mounted in dripping condition, and the little band pushed forward
       directly into the plain, going at a smart pace, until they had
       gained a considerable distance from the place of supposed danger.
       Here encamping for the night, in the midst of abundance of sage,
       or wormwood, which afforded fodder for their horses, they kindled
       a huge fire for the benefit of their damp comrade, and then
       proceeded to prepare a sumptuous supper of buffalo humps and
       ribs, and other choice bits, which they had brought with them.
       After a hearty repast, relished with an appetite unknown to city
       epicures, they stretched themselves upon their couches of skins,
       and under the starry canopy of heaven, enjoyed the sound and
       sweet sleep of hardy and well-fed mountaineers.
       They continued on their journey for several days, without any
       incident worthy of notice, and on the 19th of November, came upon
       traces of the party of which they were in search; such as burned
       patches of prairie, and deserted camping grounds. All these were
       carefully examined, to discover by their freshness or antiquity
       the probable time that the trappers had left them; at length,
       after much wandering and investigating, they came upon the
       regular trail of the hunting party, which led into the mountains,
       and following it up briskly, came about two o'clock in the
       afternoon of the 20th, upon the encampment of Hodgkiss and his
       band of free trappers, in the bosom of a mountain valley.
       It will be recollected that these free trappers, who were masters
       of themselves and their movements, had refused to accompany
       Captain Bonneville back to Green River in the preceding month of
       July, preferring to trap about the upper waters of the Salmon
       River, where they expected to find plenty of beaver, and a less
       dangerous neighborhood. Their hunt had not been very successful.
       They had penetrated the great range of mountains among which some
       of the upper branches of Salmon River take their rise, but had
       become so entangled among immense and almost impassable
       barricades of fallen pines, and so impeded by tremendous
       precipices, that a great part of their season had been wasted
       among these mountains. At one time, they had made their way
       through them, and reached the Boisee River; but meeting with a
       band of Bannack Indians, from whom they apprehended hostilities,
       they had again taken shelter among the mountains, where they were
       found by Captain Bonneville. In the neighborhood of their
       encampment, the captain had the good fortune to meet with a
       family of those wanderers of the mountains, emphatically called
       "les dignes de pitie," or Poordevil Indians. These, however,
       appear to have forfeited the title, for they had with them a fine
       lot of skins of beaver, elk, deer, and mountain sheep. These,
       Captain Bonneville purchased from them at a fair valuation, and
       sent them off astonished at their own wealth, and no doubt
       objects of envy to all their pitiful tribe.
       Being now reinforced by Hodgkiss and his band of free trappers,
       Captain Bonneville put himself at the head of the united parties,
       and set out to rejoin those he had recently left at the Beer
       Spring, that they might all go into winter quarters on Snake
       River. On his route, he encountered many heavy falls of snow,
       which melted almost immediately, so as not to impede his march,
       and on the 4th of December, he found his other party, encamped at
       the very place where he had partaken in the buffalo hunt with the
       Bannacks.
       That braggart horde was encamped but about three miles off, and
       were just then in high glee and festivity, and more swaggering
       than ever, celebrating a prodigious victory. It appeared that a
       party of their braves being out on a hunting excursion,
       discovered a band of Blackfeet moving, as they thought, to
       surprise their hunting camp. The Bannacks immediately posted
       themselves on each side of a dark ravine, through which the enemy
       must pass, and, just as they were entangled in the midst of it,
       attacked them with great fury. The Blackfeet, struck with sudden
       panic, threw off their buffalo robes and fled, leaving one of
       their warriors dead on the spot. The victors eagerly gathered up
       the spoils; but their greatest prize was the scalp of the
       Blackfoot brave. This they bore off in triumph to their village,
       where it had ever since been an object of the greatest exultation
       and rejoicing. It had been elevated upon a pole in the centre of
       the village, where the warriors had celebrated the scalp dance
       round it, with war feasts, war songs, and warlike harangues. It
       had then been given up to the women and boys; who had paraded it
       up and down the village with shouts and chants and antic dances;
       occasionally saluting it with all kinds of taunts, invectives,
       and revilings.
       The Blackfeet, in this affair, do not appear to have acted up to
       the character which has rendered them objects of such terror.
       Indeed, their conduct in war, to the inexperienced observer, is
       full of inconsistencies; at one time they are headlong in
       courage, and heedless of danger; at another time cautious almost
       to cowardice. To understand these apparent incongruities, one
       must know their principles of warfare. A war party, however
       triumphant, if they lose a warrior in the fight, bring back a
       cause of mourning to their people, which casts a shade over the
       glory of their achievement. Hence, the Indian is often less
       fierce and reckless in general battle, than he is in a private
       brawl; and the chiefs are checked in their boldest undertakings
       by the fear of sacrificing their warriors.
       This peculiarity is not confined to the Blackfeet. Among the
       Osages, says Captain Bonneville, when a warrior falls in battle,
       his comrades, though they may have fought with consummate valor,
       and won a glorious victory, will leave their arms upon the field
       of battle, and returning home with dejected countenances, will
       halt without the encampment, and wait until the relatives of the
       slain come forth and invite them to mingle again with their
       people.
       Content of CHAPTER 28 [Washington Irving's book: The Adventures of Captain Bonneville]
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