Scenery of the Way-lee-way—A substitute for tobacco—Sublime scenery of Snake River—The garrulous old chief and his cousin—A Nez-Perce meeting—A stolen skin—The scapegoat dog—Mysterious conferences—The little chief—His hospitality—The captain's account of the United States—His healing skill
IN RESUMING HIS JOURNEY, Captain Bonneville was conducted by the
same Nez Perce guide, whose knowledge of the country was important
in choosing the routes and resting places. He also continued to be
accompanied by the worthy old chief with the hard name, who seemed
bent upon doing the honors of the country, and introducing him to every
branch of his tribe. The Way-lee-way, down the banks of which Captain
Bonneville and his companions were now travelling, is a considerable
stream winding through a succession of bold and beautiful scenes.
Sometimes the landscape towered into bold and mountainous heights that
partook of sublimity; at other times, it stretched along the water side
in fresh smiling meadows, and graceful undulating valleys.
Frequently in their route they encountered small parties of the Nez
Perces, with whom they invariably stopped to shake hands; and who,
generally, evinced great curiosity concerning them and their adventures;
a curiosity which never failed to be thoroughly satisfied by the replies
of the worthy Yo-mus-ro-y-e-cut, who kindly took upon himself to be
spokesman of the party.
The incessant smoking of pipes incident to the long talks of this
excellent, but somewhat garrulous old chief, at length exhausted all his
stock of tobacco, so that he had no longer a whiff with which to regale
his white companions. In this emergency, he cut up the stem of his
pipe into fine shavings, which he mixed with certain herbs, and thus
manufactured a temporary succedaneum to enable him to accompany his long
colloquies and harangues with the customary fragrant cloud.
If the scenery of the Way-lee-way had charmed the travellers with its mingled amenity and grandeur, that which broke upon them on once more reaching Snake River, filled them with admiration and astonishment. At times, the river was overhung by dark and stupendous rocks, rising like
gigantic walls and battlements; these would be rent by wide and yawning
chasms, that seemed to speak of past convulsions of nature. Sometimes
the river was of a glassy smoothness and placidity; at other times it
roared along in impetuous rapids and foaming cascades. Here, the rocks
were piled in the most fantastic crags and precipices; and in another
place, they were succeeded by delightful valleys carpeted with
green-award. The whole of this wild and varied scenery was dominated
by immense mountains rearing their distant peaks into the clouds. "The
grandeur and originality of the views, presented on every side," says
Captain Bonneville, "beggar both the pencil and the pen. Nothing we had
ever gazed upon in any other region could for a moment compare in wild
majesty and impressive sternness, with the series of scenes which
here at every turn astonished our senses, and filled us with awe and
delight."
Indeed, from all that we can gather from the journal before us, and the
accounts of other travellers, who passed through these regions in the
memorable enterprise of Astoria, we are inclined to think that Snake
River must be one of the most remarkable for varied and striking scenery
of all the rivers of this continent. From its head waters in the Rocky
Mountains, to its junction with the Columbia, its windings are upward
of six hundred miles through every variety of landscape. Rising in a
volcanic region, amid extinguished craters, and mountains awful with the
traces of ancient fires, it makes its way through great plains of lava
and sandy deserts, penetrates vast sierras or mountainous chains, broken
into romantic and often frightful precipices, and crowned with eternal
snows; and at other times, careers through green and smiling meadows,
and wide landscapes of Italian grace and beauty. Wildness and sublimity,
however, appear to be its prevailing characteristics.
Captain Bonneville and his companions had pursued their journey a considerable distance down the course of Snake River, when the old chief halted on the bank, and dismounting, recommended that they should turn their horses loose to graze, while he summoned a cousin of his from
a group of lodges on the opposite side of the stream. His summons was
quickly answered. An Indian, of an active elastic form, leaped into a
light canoe of cotton-wood, and vigorously plying the paddle, soon shot
across the river. Bounding on shore, he advanced with a buoyant air and
frank demeanor, and gave his right hand to each of the party in turn.
The old chief, whose hard name we forbear to repeat, now presented
Captain Bonneville, in form, to his cousin, whose name, we regret to
say, was no less hard being nothing less than Hay-she-in-cow-cow. The
latter evinced the usual curiosity to know all about the strangers,
whence they came whither they were going, the object of their journey,
and the adventures they had experienced. All these, of course, were
ample and eloquently set forth by the communicative old chief. To all
his grandiloquent account of the bald-headed chief and his countrymen,
the Big Hearts of the East, his cousin listened with great attention,
and replied in the customary style of Indian welcome. He then desired
the party to await his return, and, springing into his canoe, darted
across the river. In a little while he returned, bringing a most
welcome supply of tobacco, and a small stock of provisions for the road,
declaring his intention of accompanying the party. Having no horse, he
mounted behind one of the men, observing that he should procure a steed
for himself on the following day.
They all now jogged on very sociably and cheerily together. Not many
miles beyond, they met others of the tribe, among whom was one, whom
Captain Bonneville and his comrades had known during their residence
among the Upper Nez Perces, and who welcomed them with open arms. In
this neighborhood was the home of their guide, who took leave of them
with a profusion of good wishes for their safety and happiness. That
night they put up in the hut of a Nez Perce, where they were visited by
several warriors from the other side of the river, friends of the old
chief and his cousin, who came to have a talk and a smoke with the white
men. The heart of the good old chief was overflowing with good will at
thus being surrounded by his new and old friends, and he talked with
more spirit and vivacity than ever. The evening passed away in perfect
harmony and good-humor, and it was not until a late hour that the
visitors took their leave and recrossed the river.
After this constant picture of worth and virtue on the part of the Nez
Perce tribe, we grieve to have to record a circumstance calculated to
throw a temporary shade upon the name. In the course of the social
and harmonious evening just mentioned, one of the captain's men,
who happened to be something of a virtuoso in his way, and fond of
collecting curiosities, produced a small skin, a great rarity in the
eyes of men conversant in peltries. It attracted much attention among
the visitors from beyond the river, who passed it from one to the other,
examined it with looks of lively admiration, and pronounced it a great
medicine.
In the morning, when the captain and his party were about to set off,
the precious skin was missing. Search was made for it in the hut, but it
was nowhere to be found; and it was strongly suspected that it had been
purloined by some of the connoisseurs from the other side of the river.
The old chief and his cousin were indignant at the supposed delinquency
of their friends across the water, and called out for them to come over
and answer for their shameful conduct. The others answered to the call
with all the promptitude of perfect innocence, and spurned at the idea
of their being capable of such outrage upon any of the Big-hearted
nation. All were at a loss on whom to fix the crime of abstracting the
invaluable skin, when by chance the eyes of the worthies from beyond the
water fell upon an unhappy cur, belonging to the owner of the hut. He
was a gallows-looking dog, but not more so than most Indian dogs, who,
take them in the mass, are little better than a generation of vipers. Be
that as it may, he was instantly accused of having devoured the skin
in question. A dog accused is generally a dog condemned; and a dog
condemned is generally a dog executed. So was it in the present
instance. The unfortunate cur was arraigned; his thievish looks
substantiated his guilt, and he was condemned by his judges from across
the river to be hanged. In vain the Indians of the hut, with whom he was
a great favorite, interceded in his behalf. In vain Captain Bonneville
and his comrades petitioned that his life might be spared. His judges
were inexorable. He was doubly guilty: first, in having robbed their
good friends, the Big Hearts of the East; secondly, in having brought
a doubt on the honor of the Nez Perce tribe. He was, accordingly,
swung aloft, and pelted with stones to make his death more certain.
The sentence of the judges being thoroughly executed, a post mortem
examination of the body of the dog was held, to establish his
delinquency beyond all doubt, and to leave the Nez Perces without a
shadow of suspicion. Great interest, of course, was manifested by all
present, during this operation. The body of the dog was opened, the
intestines rigorously scrutinized, but, to the horror of all concerned,
not a particle of the skin was to be found—the dog had been unjustly
executed!
A great clamor now ensued, but the most clamorous was the party from
across the river, whose jealousy of their good name now prompted them
to the most vociferous vindications of their innocence. It was with the
utmost difficulty that the captain and his comrades could calm their
lively sensibilities, by accounting for the disappearance of the skin
in a dozen different ways, until all idea of its having been stolen was
entirely out of the question.
The meeting now broke up. The warriors returned across the river, the
captain and his comrades proceeded on their journey; but the spirits
of the communicative old chief, Yo-mus-ro-y-e-cut, were for a time
completely dampened, and he evinced great mortification at what had just
occurred. He rode on in silence, except, that now and then he would give
way to a burst of indignation, and exclaim, with a shake of the head
and a toss of the hand toward the opposite shore—"bad men, very bad
men across the river"; to each of which brief exclamations, his worthy
cousin, Hay-she-in-cow-cow, would respond by a guttural sound of
acquiescence, equivalent to an amen.
After some time, the countenance of the-old chief again cleared up, and
he fell into repeated conferences, in an under tone, with his cousin,
which ended in the departure of the latter, who, applying the lash to
his horse, dashed forward and was soon out of sight. In fact, they were
drawing near to the village of another chief, likewise distinguished by
an appellation of some longitude, O-pushy-e-cut; but commonly known as
the great chief. The cousin had been sent ahead to give notice of their
approach; a herald appeared as before, bearing a powder-horn, to
enable them to respond to the intended salute. A scene ensued, on their
approach to the village, similar to that which had occurred at the
village of the little chief. The whole population appeared in the
field, drawn up in lines, arrayed with the customary regard to rank and
dignity. Then came on the firing of salutes, and the shaking of hands,
in which last ceremonial every individual, man, woman, and child,
participated; for the Indians have an idea that it is as indispensable
an overture of friendship among the whites as smoking of the pipe is
among the red men. The travellers were next ushered to the banquet,
where all the choicest viands that the village could furnish, were
served up in rich profusion. They were afterwards entertained by feats
of agility and horseraces; indeed, their visit to the village seemed the
signal for complete festivity. In the meantime, a skin lodge had been
spread for their accommodation, their horses and baggage were taken care
of, and wood and water supplied in abundance. At night, therefore, they
retired to their quarters, to enjoy, as they supposed, the repose of
which they stood in need. No such thing, however, was in store for them.
A crowd of visitors awaited their appearance, all eager for a smoke and
a talk. The pipe was immediately lighted, and constantly replenished
and kept alive until the night was far advanced. As usual, the utmost
eagerness was evinced by the guests to learn everything within the scope
of their comprehension respecting the Americans, for whom they professed
the most fraternal regard. The captain, in his replies, made use of
familiar illustrations, calculated to strike their minds, and impress
them with such an idea of the might of his nation, as would induce them
to treat with kindness and respect all stragglers that might fall in
their path. To their inquiries as to the numbers of the people of the
United States, he assured them that they were as countless as the blades of grass in the prairies, and that, great as Snake River was, if they were all encamped upon its banks, they would drink it dry in a single day. To these and similar statistics, they listened with profound
attention, and apparently, implicit belief. It was, indeed, a striking
scene: the captain, with his hunter's dress and bald head in the midst,
holding forth, and his wild auditors seated around like so many statues,
the fire lighting up their painted faces and muscular figures, all
fixed and motionless, excepting when the pipe was passed, a question
propounded, or a startling fact in statistics received with a movement
of surprise and a half-suppressed ejaculation of wonder and delight.
The fame of the captain as a healer of diseases, had accompanied him to
this village, and the great chief, O-push-y-e-cut, now entreated him to
exert his skill on his daughter, who had been for three days racked with
pains, for which the Pierced-nose doctors could devise no alleviation.
The captain found her extended on a pallet of mats in excruciating pain.
Her father manifested the strongest paternal affection for her, and
assured the captain that if he would but cure her, he would place the
Americans near his heart. The worthy captain needed no such inducement.
His kind heart was already touched by the sufferings of the poor girl,
and his sympathies quickened by her appearance; for she was but about
sixteen years of age, and uncommonly beautiful in form and feature.
The only difficulty with the captain was, that he knew nothing of her
malady, and that his medical science was of a most haphazard kind. After
considering and cogitating for some time, as a man is apt to do when
in a maze of vague ideas, he made a desperate dash at a remedy. By his
directions, the girl was placed in a sort of rude vapor bath, much used
by the Nez Perces, where she was kept until near fainting. He then gave
her a dose of gunpowder dissolved in cold water, and ordered her to
be wrapped in buffalo robes and put to sleep under a load of furs and
blankets. The remedy succeeded: the next morning she was free from pain,
though extremely languid; whereupon, the captain prescribed for her a
bowl of colt's head broth, and that she should be kept for a time on
simple diet.
The great chief was unbounded in his expressions of gratitude for the
recovery of his daughter. He would fain have detained the captain a
long time as his guest, but the time for departure had arrived. When the
captain's horse was brought for him to mount, the chief declared that
the steed was not worthy of him, and sent for one of his best horses,
which he presented in its stead; declaring that it made his heart glad
to see his friend so well mounted. He then appointed a young Nez Perce
to accompany his guest to the next village, and "to carry his talk"
concerning them; and the two parties separated with mutual expressions
of good will.
The vapor bath of which we have made mention is in frequent use among
the Nez Perce tribe, chiefly for cleanliness. Their sweating houses, as
they call them, are small and close lodges, and the vapor is produced by
water poured slowly upon red-hot stones.
On passing the limits of O-push-y-e-cut's domains, the travellers left
the elevated table-lands, and all the wild and romantic scenery which
has just been described. They now traversed a gently undulating country,
of such fertility that it excited the rapturous admiration of two of the
captain's followers, a Kentuckian and a native of Ohio. They declared
that it surpassed any land that they had ever seen, and often exclaimed
what a delight it would be just to run a plough through such a rich and
teeming soil, and see it open its bountiful promise before the share.
Another halt and sojourn of a night was made at the village of a
chief named He-mim-el-pilp, where similar ceremonies were observed and
hospitality experienced, as at the preceding villages. They now pursued
a west-southwest course through a beautiful and fertile region, better
wooded than most of the tracts through which they had passed. In their
progress, they met with several bands of Nez Perces, by whom they were
invariably treated with the utmost kindness. Within seven days after
leaving the domain of He-mim-el-pilp, they struck the Columbia River at
Fort Wallah-Wallah, where they arrived on the 4th of March, 1834.
