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.
