Winter camp at the Portneuf—Fine springs—The Bannack Indians—Their honesty—Captain—Bonneville prepares for an expedition—Christmas—The American—Falls—Wild scenery— Fishing Falls—Snake Indians—Scenery on the Bruneau—View of volcanic country from a mountain—Powder River—Shoshokoes, or Root Diggers—Their character, habits, habitations, dogs—Vanity at its last shift
IN ESTABLISHING his winter camp near the Portneuf, Captain Bonneville
had drawn off to some little distance from his Bannack friends, to avoid
all annoyance from their intimacy or intrusions. In so doing, however,
he had been obliged to take up his quarters on the extreme edge of the
flat land, where he was encompassed with ice and snow, and had nothing
better for his horses to subsist on than wormwood. The Bannacks, on the
contrary, were encamped among fine springs of water, where there was
grass in abundance. Some of these springs gush out of the earth in
sufficient quantity to turn a mill; and furnish beautiful streams, clear
as crystal, and full of trout of a large size, which may be seen darting
about the transparent water.
Winter now set in regularly. The snow had fallen frequently, and in
large quantities, and covered the ground to a depth of a foot; and the
continued coldness of the weather prevented any thaw.
By degrees, a distrust which at first subsisted between the Indians and
the trappers, subsided, and gave way to mutual confidence and good
will. A few presents convinced the chiefs that the white men were their
friends; nor were the white men wanting in proofs of the honesty and
good faith of their savage neighbors. Occasionally, the deep snow and
the want of fodder obliged them to turn their weakest horses out to roam
in quest of sustenance. If they at any time strayed to the camp of the
Bannacks, they were immediately brought back. It must be confessed,
however, that if the stray horse happened, by any chance, to be in
vigorous plight and good condition, though he was equally sure to be
returned by the honest Bannacks, yet it was always after the lapse of
several days, and in a very gaunt and jaded state; and always with the
remark that they had found him a long way off. The uncharitable were apt
to surmise that he had, in the interim, been well used up in a
buffalo hunt; but those accustomed to Indian morality in the matter of
horseflesh, considered it a singular evidence of honesty that he should
be brought back at all.
Being convinced, therefore, from these, and other circumstances, that
his people were encamped in the neighborhood of a tribe as honest as
they were valiant, and satisfied that they would pass their winter
unmolested, Captain Bonneville prepared for a reconnoitring expedition
of great extent and peril. This was, to penetrate to the Hudson's
Bay establishments on the banks of the Columbia, and to make himself
acquainted with the country and the Indian tribes; it being one part of
his scheme to establish a trading post somewhere on the lower part of
the river, so as to participate in the trade lost to the United States
by the capture of Astoria. This expedition would, of course, take him
through the Snake River country, and across the Blue Mountains, the
scenes of so much hardship and disaster to Hunt and Crooks, and their
Astorian bands, who first explored it, and he would have to pass through
it in the same frightful season, the depth of winter.
The idea of risk and hardship, however, only served to stimulate the
adventurous spirit of the captain. He chose three companions for his
journey, put up a small stock of necessaries in the most portable form,
and selected five horses and mules for themselves and their baggage. He
proposed to rejoin his band in the early part of March, at the winter
encampment near the Portneuf. All these arrangements being completed,
he mounted his horse on Christmas morning, and set off with his three
comrades. They halted a little beyond the Bannack camp, and made their
Christmas dinner, which, if not a very merry, was a very hearty one,
after which they resumed their journey.
They were obliged to travel slowly, to spare their horses; for the snow
had increased in depth to eighteen inches; and though somewhat packed
and frozen, was not sufficiently so to yield firm footing. Their route
lay to the west, down along the left side of Snake River; and they were
several days in reaching the first, or American Falls. The banks of the
river, for a considerable distance, both above and below the falls,
have a volcanic character: masses of basaltic rock are piled one upon
another; the water makes its way through their broken chasms, boiling
through narrow channels, or pitching in beautiful cascades over ridges
of basaltic columns.
Beyond these falls, they came to a picturesque, but inconsiderable
stream, called the Cassie. It runs through a level valley, about four
miles wide, where the soil is good; but the prevalent coldness and
dryness of the climate is unfavorable to vegetation. Near to this stream
there is a small mountain of mica slate, including garnets. Granite,
in small blocks, is likewise seen in this neighborhood, and white
sandstone. From this river, the travellers had a prospect of the snowy
heights of the Salmon River Mountains to the north; the nearest, at
least fifty miles distant.
In pursuing his course westward, Captain Bonneville generally kept
several miles from Snake River, crossing the heads of its tributary
streams; though he often found the open country so encumbered by
volcanic rocks, as to render travelling extremely difficult. Whenever he
approached Snake River, he found it running through a broad chasm, with
steep, perpendicular sides of basaltic rock. After several days' travel
across a level plain, he came to a part of the river which filled him
with astonishment and admiration. As far as the eye could reach, the
river was walled in by perpendicular cliffs two hundred and fifty
feet high, beetling like dark and gloomy battlements, while blocks and
fragments lay in masses at their feet, in the midst of the boiling and
whirling current. Just above, the whole stream pitched in one cascade
above forty feet in height, with a thundering sound, casting up a volume
of spray that hung in the air like a silver mist. These are called
by some the Fishing Falls, as the salmon are taken here in immense
quantities. They cannot get by these falls.
After encamping at this place all night, Captain Bonneville, at sunrise,
descended with his party through a narrow ravine, or rather crevice, in
the vast wall of basaltic rock which bordered the river; this being the
only mode, for many miles, of getting to the margin of the stream.
The snow lay in a thin crust along the banks of the river, so that their
travelling was much more easy than it had been hitherto. There were
foot tracks, also, made by the natives, which greatly facilitated their
progress. Occasionally, they met the inhabitants of this wild region;
a timid race, and but scantily provided with the necessaries of life.
Their dress consisted of a mantle about four feet square, formed
of strips of rabbit skins sewed together; this they hung over their
shoulders, in the ordinary Indian mode of wearing the blanket. Their
weapons were bows and arrows; the latter tipped with obsidian, which
abounds in the neighborhood. Their huts were shaped like haystacks, and
constructed of branches of willow covered with long grass, so as to
be warm and comfortable. Occasionally, they were surrounded by small
inclosures of wormwood, about three feet high, which gave them
a cottage-like appearance. Three or four of these tenements were
occasionally grouped together in some wild and striking situation, and
had a picturesque effect. Sometimes they were in sufficient number
to form a small hamlet. From these people, Captain Bonneville's party
frequently purchased salmon, dried in an admirable manner, as were
likewise the roes. This seemed to be their prime article of food; but
they were extremely anxious to get buffalo meat in exchange.
The high walls and rocks, within which the travellers had been so long
inclosed, now occasionally presented openings, through which they were
enabled to ascend to the plain, and to cut off considerable bends of the
river.
Throughout the whole extent of this vast and singular chasm, the scenery
of the river is said to be of the most wild and romantic character.
The rocks present every variety of masses and grouping. Numerous small
streams come rushing and boiling through narrow clefts and ravines:
one of a considerable size issued from the face of a precipice, within
twenty-five feet of its summit; and after running in nearly a horizontal
line for about one hundred feet, fell, by numerous small cascades, to
the rocky bank of the river.
In its career through this vast and singular defile, Snake River is upward of three hundred yards wide, and as clear as spring water.
Sometimes it steals along with a tranquil and noiseless course; at other
times, for miles and miles, it dashes on in a thousand rapids, wild
and beautiful to the eye, and lulling the ear with the soft tumult of
plashing waters.
Many of the tributary streams of Snake River, rival it in the wildness
and picturesqueness of their scenery. That called the Bruneau; is
particularly cited. It runs through a tremendous chasm, rather than a
valley, extending upwards of a hundred and fifty miles. You come upon it
on a sudden, in traversing a level plain. It seems as if you could throw
a stone across from cliff to cliff; yet, the valley is near two thousand
feet deep: so that the river looks like an inconsiderable stream.
Basaltic rocks rise perpendicularly, so that it is impossible to get
from the plain to the water, or from the river margin to the plain. The
current is bright and limpid. Hot springs are found on the borders of
this river. One bursts out of the cliffs forty feet above the river, in
a stream sufficient to turn a mill, and sends up a cloud of vapor.
We find a characteristic picture of this volcanic region of mountains
and streams, furnished by the journal of Mr. Wyeth, which lies before
us; who ascended a peak in the neighborhood we are describing. From this
summit, the country, he says, appears an indescribable chaos; the tops
of the hills exhibit the same strata as far as the eye can reach; and
appear to have once formed the level of the country; and the valleys
to be formed by the sinking of the earth, rather than the rising of the
hills. Through the deep cracks and chasms thus formed, the rivers and
brooks make their way, which renders it difficult to follow them. All
these basaltic channels are called cut rocks by the trappers. Many of
the mountain streams disappear in the plains; either absorbed by their
thirsty soil, and by the porous surface of the lava, or swallowed up in
gulfs and chasms.
On the 12th of January (1834), Captain Bonneville reached Powder River;
much the largest stream that he had seen since leaving the Portneuf. He
struck it about three miles above its entrance into Snake River. Here he found himself above the lower narrows and defiles of the latter river, and in an open and level country. The natives now made their appearance
in considerable numbers, and evinced the most insatiable curiosity
respecting the white men; sitting in groups for hours together, exposed
to the bleakest winds, merely for the pleasure of gazing upon the
strangers, and watching every movement. These are of that branch of
the great Snake tribe called Shoshokoes, or Root Diggers, from their
subsisting, in a great measure, on the roots of the earth; though they
likewise take fish in great quantities, and hunt, in a small way. They
are, in general, very poor; destitute of most of the comforts of life,
and extremely indolent: but a mild, inoffensive race. They differ, in
many respects, from the other branch of the Snake tribe, the Shoshonies;
who possess horses, are more roving and adventurous, and hunt the
buffalo.
On the following day, as Captain Bonneville approached the mouth
of Powder River, he discovered at least a hundred families of these
Diggers, as they are familiarly called, assembled in one place. The
women and children kept at a distance, perched among the rocks and
cliffs; their eager curiosity being somewhat dashed with fear. From
their elevated posts, they scrutinized the strangers with the most
intense earnestness; regarding them with almost as much awe as if they
had been beings of a supernatural order.
The men, however, were by no means so shy and reserved; but importuned
Captain Bonneville and his companions excessively by their curiosity.
Nothing escaped their notice; and any thing they could lay their hands
on underwent the most minute examination. To get rid of such inquisitive
neighbors, the travellers kept on for a considerable distance, before
they encamped for the night.
The country, hereabout, was generally level and sandy; producing very
little grass, but a considerable quantity of sage or wormwood. The
plains were diversified by isolated hills, all cut off, as it were,
about the same height, so as to have tabular summits. In this they
resembled the isolated hills of the great prairies, east of the Rocky
Mountains; especially those found on the plains of the Arkansas.
The high precipices which had hitherto walled in the channel of Snake
River had now disappeared; and the banks were of the ordinary height. It
should be observed, that the great valleys or plains, through which the
Snake River wound its course, were generally of great breadth, extending
on each side from thirty to forty miles; where the view was bounded by
unbroken ridges of mountains.
The travellers found but little snow in the neighborhood of Powder
River, though the weather continued intensely cold. They learned a
lesson, however, from their forlorn friends, the Root Diggers, which
they subsequently found of great service in their wintry wanderings.
They frequently observed them to be furnished with long ropes, twisted
from the bark of the wormwood. This they used as a slow match, carrying
it always lighted. Whenever they wished to warm themselves, they would
gather together a little dry wormwood, apply the match, and in an
instant produce a cheering blaze.
Captain Bonneville gives a cheerless account of a village of these
Diggers, which he saw in crossing the plain below Powder River. "They
live," says he, "without any further protection from the inclemency
of the season, than a sort of break-weather, about three feet high,
composed of sage (or wormwood), and erected around them in the shape
of a half moon." Whenever he met with them, however, they had always a
large suite of half-starved dogs: for these animals, in savage as well
as in civilized life, seem to be the concomitants of beggary.
These dogs, it must be allowed, were of more use than the beggary curs
of cities. The Indian children used them in hunting the small game of
the neighborhood, such as rabbits and prairie dogs; in which mongrel
kind of chase they acquitted themselves with some credit.
Sometimes the Diggers aspire to nobler game, and succeed in entrapping
the antelope, the fleetest animal of the prairies. The process by which
this is effected is somewhat singular. When the snow has disappeared,
says Captain Bonneville, and the ground become soft, the women go into
the thickest fields of wormwood, and pulling it up in great quantities,
construct with it a hedge, about three feet high, inclosing about a
hundred acres. A single opening is left for the admission of the game.
This done, the women conceal themselves behind the wormwood, and wait
patiently for the coming of the antelopes; which sometimes enter this
spacious trap in considerable numbers. As soon as they are in, the women
give the signal, and the men hasten to play their part. But one of them
enters the pen at a time; and, after chasing the terrified animals round
the inclosure, is relieved by one of his companions. In this way
the hunters take their turns, relieving each other, and keeping up a
continued pursuit by relays, without fatigue to themselves. The poor
antelopes, in the end, are so wearied down, that the whole party of men
enter and dispatch them with clubs; not one escaping that has entered
the inclosure. The most curious circumstance in this chase is, that an
animal so fleet and agile as the antelope, and straining for its life,
should range round and round this fated inclosure, without attempting to
overleap the low barrier which surrounds it. Such, however, is said to
be the fact; and such their only mode of hunting the antelope.
Notwithstanding the absence of all comfort and convenience in their
habitations, and the general squalidness of their appearance, the
Shoshokoes do not appear to be destitute of ingenuity. They manufacture
good ropes, and even a tolerably fine thread, from a sort of weed found
in their neighborhood; and construct bowls and jugs out of a kind of
basket-work formed from small strips of wood plaited: these, by the aid
of a little wax, they render perfectly water tight. Beside the roots on
which they mainly depend for subsistence, they collect great quantities
of seed, of various kinds, beaten with one hand out of the tops of the
plants into wooden bowls held for that purpose. The seed thus collected
is winnowed and parched, and ground between two stones into a kind of
meal or flour; which, when mixed with water, forms a very palatable
paste or gruel.
Some of these people, more provident and industrious than the rest, lay
up a stock of dried salmon, and other fish, for winter: with these, they
were ready to traffic with the travellers for any objects of utility in
Indian life; giving a large quantity in exchange for an awl, a knife,
or a fish-hook. Others were in the most abject state of want and
starvation; and would even gather up the fish-bones which the travellers
threw away after a repast, warm them over again at the fire, and pick
them with the greatest avidity.
The farther Captain Bonneville advanced into the country of these
Root Diggers, the more evidence he perceived of their rude and forlorn
condition. "They were destitute," says he, "of the necessary covering
to protect them from the weather; and seemed to be in the most
unsophisticated ignorance of any other propriety or advantage in the
use of clothing. One old dame had absolutely nothing on her person but a
thread round her neck, from which was pendant a solitary bead."
What stage of human destitution, however, is too destitute for vanity!
Though these naked and forlorn-looking beings had neither toilet to
arrange, nor beauty to contemplate, their greatest passion was for a
mirror. It was a "great medicine," in their eyes. The sight of one was
sufficient, at any time, to throw them into a paroxysm of eagerness and
delight; and they were ready to give anything they had for the smallest
fragment in which they might behold their squalid features. With this
simple instance of vanity, in its primitive but vigorous state, we shall
close our remarks on the Root Diggers.
