Progress in the valley—An Indian cavalier—The captain falls into a lethargy—A Nez-Perce patriarch—Hospitable treatment—The bald head—Bargaining—Value of an old plaid cloak—The family horse—The cost of an Indian present
A TRANQUIL NIGHT'S REST had sufficiently restored the broken down
traveller to enable him to resume his wayfaring, and all hands set
forward on the Indian trail. With all their eagerness to arrive within
reach of succor, such was their feeble and emaciated condition, that
they advanced but slowly. Nor is it a matter of surprise that they
should almost have lost heart, as well as strength. It was now (the 16th
of February) fifty-three days that they had been travelling in the midst
of winter, exposed to all kinds of privations and hardships: and for
the last twenty days, they had been entangled in the wild and desolate
labyrinths of the snowy mountains; climbing and descending icy
precipices, and nearly starved with cold and hunger.
All the morning they continued following the Indian trail, without
seeing a human being, and were beginning to be discouraged, when, about
noon, they discovered a horseman at a distance. He was coming directly
toward them; but on discovering them, suddenly reined up his steed,
came to a halt, and, after reconnoitring them for a time with great
earnestness, seemed about to make a cautious retreat. They eagerly made
signs of peace, and endeavored, with the utmost anxiety, to induce him
to approach. He remained for some time in doubt; but at length, having
satisfied himself that they were not enemies, came galloping up to them.
He was a fine, haughty-looking savage, fancifully decorated, and mounted
on a high-mettled steed, with gaudy trappings and equipments. It was
evident that he was a warrior of some consequence among his tribe.
His whole deportment had something in it of barbaric dignity; he felt,
perhaps, his temporary superiority in personal array, and in the spirit
of his steed, to the poor, ragged, travel-worn trappers and their
half-starved horses. Approaching them with an air of protection, he gave
them his hand, and, in the Nez Perce language, invited them to his camp,
which was only a few miles distant; where he had plenty to eat, and
plenty of horses, and would cheerfully share his good things with them.
His hospitable invitation was joyfully accepted: he lingered but a
moment, to give directions by which they might find his camp, and then,
wheeling round, and giving the reins to his mettlesome steed, was soon
out of sight. The travellers followed, with gladdened hearts, but at a
snail's pace; for their poor horses could scarcely drag one leg after
the other. Captain Bonneville, however, experienced a sudden and
singular change of feeling. Hitherto, the necessity of conducting his
party, and of providing against every emergency, had kept his mind upon
the stretch, and his whole system braced and excited. In no one instance
had he flagged in spirit, or felt disposed to succumb. Now, however,
that all danger was over, and the march of a few miles would bring them
to repose and abundance, his energies suddenly deserted him; and every
faculty, mental and physical, was totally relaxed. He had not proceeded
two miles from the point where he had had the interview with the Nez
Perce chief, when he threw himself upon the earth, without the power
or will to move a muscle, or exert a thought, and sank almost instantly
into a profound and dreamless sleep. His companions again came to a
halt, and encamped beside him, and there they passed the night.
The next morning, Captain Bonneville awakened from his long and heavy
sleep, much refreshed; and they all resumed their creeping progress.
They had not long been on the march, when eight or ten of the Nez Perce
tribe came galloping to meet them, leading fresh horses to bear them
to their camp. Thus gallantly mounted, they felt new life infused into
their languid frames, and dashing forward, were soon at the lodges of
the Nez Perces. Here they found about twelve families living together,
under the patriarchal sway of an ancient and venerable chief. He
received them with the hospitality of the golden age, and with something
of the same kind of fare; for, while he opened his arms to make them
welcome, the only repast he set before them consisted of roots. They
could have wished for something more hearty and substantial; but, for
want of better, made a voracious meal on these humble viands. The repast
being over, the best pipe was lighted and sent round: and this was a
most welcome luxury, having lost their smoking apparatus twelve days
before, among the mountains.
While they were thus enjoying themselves, their poor horses were led to
the best pastures in the neighborhood, where they were turned loose to
revel on the fresh sprouting grass; so that they had better fare than
their masters.
Captain Bonneville soon felt himself quite at home among these quiet,
inoffensive people. His long residence among their cousins, the Upper
Nez Perces, had made him conversant with their language, modes of
expression, and all their habitudes. He soon found, too, that he
was well known among them, by report, at least, from the constant
interchange of visits and messages between the two branches of the
tribe. They at first addressed him by his name; giving him his title of
captain, with a French accent: but they soon gave him a title of their
own; which, as usual with Indian titles, had a peculiar signification.
In the case of the captain, it had somewhat of a whimsical origin.
As he sat chatting and smoking in the midst of them, he would
occasionally take off his cap. Whenever he did so, there was a sensation
in the surrounding circle. The Indians would half rise from their
recumbent posture, and gaze upon his uncovered head, with their usual
exclamation of astonishment. The worthy captain was completely bald; a
phenomenon very surprising in their eyes. They were at a loss to know
whether he had been scalped in battle, or enjoyed a natural immunity
from that belligerent infliction. In a little while, he became
known among them by an Indian name, signifying "the bald chief." "A
sobriquet," observes the captain, "for which I can find no parallel in
history since the days of 'Charles the Bald.'"
Although the travellers had banqueted on roots, and been regaled
with tobacco smoke, yet their stomachs craved more generous fare. In
approaching the lodges of the Nez Perces, they had indulged in fond
anticipations of venison and dried salmon; and dreams of the kind still
haunted their imaginations, and could not be conjured down. The keen
appetites of mountain trappers, quickened by a fortnight's fasting, at
length got the better of all scruples of pride, and they fairly begged
some fish or flesh from the hospitable savages. The latter, however,
were slow to break in upon their winter store, which was very limited;
but were ready to furnish roots in abundance, which they pronounced
excellent food. At length, Captain Bonneville thought of a means of
attaining the much-coveted gratification.
He had about him, he says, a trusty plaid; an old and valued travelling
companion and comforter; upon which the rains had descended, and the
snows and winds beaten, without further effect than somewhat to
tarnish its primitive lustre. This coat of many colors had excited the
admiration, and inflamed the covetousness of both warriors and squaws,
to an extravagant degree. An idea now occurred to Captain Bonneville,
to convert this rainbow garment into the savory viands so much desired.
There was a momentary struggle in his mind, between old associations and
projected indulgence; and his decision in favor of the latter was
made, he says, with a greater promptness, perhaps, than true taste and
sentiment might have required. In a few moments, his plaid cloak was
cut into numerous strips. "Of these," continues he, "with the newly
developed talent of a man-milliner, I speedily constructed turbans a
la Turque, and fanciful head-gears of divers conformations. These,
judiciously distributed among such of the womenkind as seemed of most
consequence and interest in the eyes of the patres conscripti, brought
us, in a little while, abundance of dried salmon and deers' hearts; on
which we made a sumptuous supper. Another, and a more satisfactory
smoke, succeeded this repast, and sweet slumbers answering the peaceful
invocation of our pipes, wrapped us in that delicious rest, which is
only won by toil and travail." As to Captain Bonneville, he slept in
the lodge of the venerable patriarch, who had evidently conceived a most
disinterested affection for him; as was shown on the following morning.
The travellers, invigorated by a good supper, and "fresh from the bath
of repose," were about to resume their journey, when this affectionate
old chief took the captain aside, to let him know how much he loved him.
As a proof of his regard, he had determined to give him a fine horse,
which would go further than words, and put his good will beyond all
question. So saying, he made a signal, and forthwith a beautiful young
horse, of a brown color, was led, prancing and snorting, to the place.
Captain Bonneville was suitably affected by this mark of friendship; but
his experience in what is proverbially called "Indian giving," made him
aware that a parting pledge was necessary on his own part, to prove that
his friendship was reciprocated. He accordingly placed a handsome
rifle in the hands of the venerable chief, whose benevolent heart was
evidently touched and gratified by this outward and visible sign of
amity.
Having now, as he thought, balanced this little account of friendship,
the captain was about to shift his saddle to this noble gift-horse when
the affectionate patriarch plucked him by the sleeve, and introduced to
him a whimpering, whining, leathern-skinned old squaw, that might have
passed for an Egyptian mummy, without drying. "This," said he, "is
my wife; she is a good wife—I love her very much.—She loves the
horse—she loves him a great deal—she will cry very much at losing
him.—I do not know how I shall comfort her—and that makes my heart
very sore."
What could the worthy captain do, to console the tender-hearted old
squaw, and, peradventure, to save the venerable patriarch from a curtain
lecture? He bethought himself of a pair of ear-bobs: it was true, the
patriarch's better-half was of an age and appearance that seemed to
put personal vanity out of the question, but when is personal vanity
extinct? The moment he produced the glittering earbobs, the whimpering
and whining of the sempiternal beldame was at an end. She eagerly placed
the precious baubles in her ears, and, though as ugly as the Witch of
Endor, went off with a sideling gait and coquettish air, as though she
had been a perfect Semiramis.
The captain had now saddled his newly acquired steed, and his foot was
in the stirrup, when the affectionate patriarch again stepped forward,
and presented to him a young Pierced-nose, who had a peculiarly sulky
look. "This," said the venerable chief, "is my son: he is very good; a
great horseman—he always took care of this very fine horse—he brought
him up from a colt, and made him what he is.—He is very fond of this
fine horse—he loves him like a brother—his heart will be very heavy
when this fine horse leaves the camp."
What could the captain do, to reward the youthful hope of this venerable
pair, and comfort him for the loss of his foster-brother, the horse?
He bethought him of a hatchet, which might be spared from his slender
stores. No sooner did he place the implement into the hands of the young
hopeful, than his countenance brightened up, and he went off rejoicing
in his hatchet, to the full as much as did his respectable mother in her
ear-bobs.
The captain was now in the saddle, and about to start, when the
affectionate old patriarch stepped forward, for the third time, and,
while he laid one hand gently on the mane of the horse, held up the
rifle in the other. "This rifle," said he, "shall be my great medicine.
I will hug it to my heart—I will always love it, for the sake of my
good friend, the bald-headed chief.—But a rifle, by itself, is dumb—I
cannot make it speak. If I had a little powder and ball, I would take it
out with me, and would now and then shoot a deer; and when I brought the
meat home to my hungry family, I would say—This was killed by the
rifle of my friend, the bald-headed chief, to whom I gave that very fine
horse."
There was no resisting this appeal; the captain, forthwith, furnished
the coveted supply of powder and ball; but at the same time, put spurs
to his very fine gift-horse, and the first trial of his speed was to
get out of all further manifestation of friendship, on the part of the
affectionate old patriarch and his insinuating family.
