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CHAPTER 47
A festive winter - Conversion of the Shoshonies - Visit of two free trappers - Gayety in the camp - A touch of the tender passion - The reclaimed squaw - An Indian fine lady - An elopement - A pursuit - Market value of a bad wife.
GAME continued to abound throughout the winter, and the camp was
overstocked with provisions. Beef and venison, humps and
haunches, buffalo tongues and marrow-bones, were constantly
cooking at every fire; and the whole atmosphere was redolent with
the savory fumes of roast meat. It was, indeed, a continual
"feast of fat things," and though there might be a lack of "wine
upon the lees," yet we have shown that a substitute was
occasionally to be found in honey and alcohol.
Both the Shoshonies and the Eutaws conducted themselves with
great propriety. It is true, they now and then filched a few
trifles from their good friends, the Big Hearts, when their backs
were turned; but then, they always treated them to their faces
with the utmost deference and respect, and good-humoredly vied
with the trappers in all kinds of feats of activity and mirthful
sports. The two tribes maintained toward each other, also a
friendliness of aspect which gave Captain Bonneville reason to
hope that all past animosity was effectually buried.
The two rival bands, however, had not long been mingled in this
social manner before their ancient jealousy began to break out in
a new form. The senior chief of the Shoshonies was a thinking
man, and a man of observation. He had been among the Nez Perces,
listened to their new code of morality and religion received from
the white men, and attended their devotional exercises. He had
observed the effect of all this, in elevating the tribe in the
estimation of the white men; and determined, by the same means,
to gain for his own tribe a superiority over their ignorant
rivals, the Eutaws. He accordingly assembled his people, and
promulgated among them the mongrel doctrines and form of worship
of the Nez Perces; recommending the same to their adoption. The
Shoshonies were struck with the novelty, at least, of the
measure, and entered into it with spirit. They began to observe
Sundays and holidays, and to have their devotional dances, and
chants, and other ceremonials, about which the ignorant Eutaws
knew nothing; while they exerted their usual competition in
shooting and horseracing, and the renowned game of hand.
Matters were going on thus pleasantly and prosperously, in this
motley community of white and red men, when, one morning, two
stark free trappers, arrayed in the height of savage finery, and
mounted on steeds as fine and as fiery as themselves, and all
jingling with hawks' bells, came galloping, with whoop and
halloo, into the camp.
They were fresh from the winter encampment of the American Fur
Company, in the Green River Valley; and had come to pay their old
comrades of Captain Bonneville's company a visit. An idea may be
formed from the scenes we have already given of conviviality in
the wilderness, of the manner in which these game birds were
received by those of their feather in the camp; what feasting,
what revelling, what boasting, what bragging, what ranting and
roaring, and racing and gambling, and squabbling and fighting,
ensued among these boon companions. Captain Bonneville, it is
true, maintained always a certain degree of law and order in his
camp, and checked each fierce excess; but the trappers, in their
seasons of idleness and relaxation require a degree of license
and indulgence, to repay them for the long privations and almost
incredible hardships of their periods of active service.
In the midst of all this feasting and frolicking, a freak of the
tender passion intervened, and wrought a complete change in the
scene. Among the Indian beauties in the camp of the Eutaws and
Shoshonies, the free trappers discovered two, who had whilom
figured as their squaws. These connections frequently take place
for a season, and sometimes continue for years, if not
perpetually; but are apt to be broken when the free trapper
starts off, suddenly, on some distant and rough expedition.
In the present instance, these wild blades were anxious to regain
their belles; nor were the latter loath once more to come under
their protection. The free trapper combines, in the eye of an
Indian girl, all that is dashing and heroic in a warrior of her
own race -- whose gait, and garb, and bravery he emulates -- with
all that is gallant and glorious in the white man. And then the
indulgence with which he treats her, the finery in which he decks
her out, the state in which she moves, the sway she enjoys over
both his purse and person; instead of being the drudge and slave
of an Indian husband, obliged to carry his pack, and build his
lodge, and make his fire, and bear his cross humors and dry
blows. No; there is no comparison in the eyes of an aspiring
belle of the wilderness, between a free trapper and an Indian
brave.
With respect to one of the parties the matter was easily
arranged. 'The beauty in question was a pert little Eutaw wench,
that had been taken prisoner, in some war excursion, by a
Shoshonie. She was readily ransomed for a few articles of
trifling value; and forthwith figured about the camp in fine
array, "with rings on her fingers, and bells on her toes," and a
tossed-up coquettish air that made her the envy, admiration, and
abhorrence of all the leathern-dressed, hard-working squaws of
her acquaintance.
As to the other beauty, it was quite a different matter. She had
become the wife of a Shoshonie brave. It is true, he had another
wife, of older date than the one in question; who, therefore,
took command in his household, and treated his new spouse as a
slave; but the latter was the wife of his last fancy, his latest
caprice; and was precious in his eyes. All attempt to bargain
with him, therefore, was useless; the very proposition was
repulsed with anger and disdain. The spirit of the trapper was
roused, his pride was piqued as well as his passion. He
endeavored to prevail upon his quondam mistress to elope with
him. His horses were fleet, the winter nights were long and dark,
before daylight they would be beyond the reach of pursuit; and
once at the encampment in Green River Valley, they might set the
whole band of Shoshonies at defiance.
The Indian girl listened and longed. Her heart yearned after the
ease and splendor of condition of a trapper's bride, and throbbed
to be free from the capricious control of the premier squaw; but
she dreaded the failure of the plan, and the fury of a Shoshonie
husband. They parted; the Indian girl in tears, and the madcap
trapper more than ever, with his thwarted passion.
Their interviews had, probably, been detected, and the jealousy
of the Shoshonie brave aroused: a clamor of angry voices was
heard in his lodge, with the sound of blows, and of female
weeping and lamenting. At night, as the trapper lay tossing on
his pallet, a soft voice whispered at the door of his lodge. His
mistress stood trembling before him. She was ready to follow
whithersoever he should lead.
In an instant he was up and out. He had two prime horses, sure
and swift of foot, and of great wind. With stealthy quiet, they
were brought up and saddled; and in a few moments he and his
prize were careering over the snow, with which the whole country
was covered. In the eagerness of escape, they had made no
provision for their journey; days must elapse before they could
reach their haven of safety, and mountains and prairies be
traversed, wrapped in all the desolation of winter. For the
present, however they thought of nothing but flight; urging their
horses forward over the dreary wastes, and fancying, in the
howling of every blast, they heard the yell of the pursuer.
At early dawn, the Shoshonie became aware of his loss. Mounting
his swiftest horse, he set off in hot pursuit. He soon found the
trail of the fugitives, and spurred on in hopes of overtaking
them. The winds, however, which swept the valley, had drifted the
light snow into the prints made by the horses' hoofs. In a little
while he lost all trace of them, and was completely thrown out of
the chase. He knew, however, the situation of the camp toward
which they were bound, and a direct course through the mountains,
by which he might arrive there sooner than the fugitives. Through
the most rugged defiles, therefore, he urged his course by day
and night, scarce pausing until he reached the camp. It was some
time before the fugitives made their appearance. Six days had
they traversed the wintry wilds. They came, haggard with hunger
and fatigue, and their horses faltering under them. The first
object that met their eyes on entering the camp was the Shoshonie
brave. He rushed, knife in hand, to plunge it in the heart that
had proved false to him. The trapper threw himself before the
cowering form of his mistress, and, exhausted as he was, prepared
for a deadly struggle. The Shoshonie paused. His habitual awe of
the white man checked his arm; the trapper's friends crowded to
the spot, and arrested him. A parley ensued. A kind of crim. con.
adjudication took place; such as frequently occurs in civilized
life. A couple of horses were declared to be a fair compensation
for the loss of a woman who had previously lost her heart; with
this, the Shoshonie brave was fain to pacify his passion. He
returned to Captain Bonneville's camp, somewhat crestfallen, it
is true; but parried the officious condolements of his friends by
observing that two good horses were very good pay for one bad
wife.
Content of CHAPTER 47 [Washington Irving's book: The Adventures of Captain Bonneville]
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