CHAPTER XIII.

“And you, ye craigs, upon whose extreme edgeI stand, and on the torrent’s brink beneathBehold the tall pines dwindled as to shrubs,In dizziness of distance; when a leap,A stir, a motion, even a breath, would bringMy breast upon its rocky bosom’s bedTo rest forever—wherefore do I pause?I feel the impulse—yet I do not plunge;I see the peril—yet do not recede;And my brain reels—and yet my foot is firm:There is a power upon me which withholds,And makes it my fatality to live.”

The Indian Names—Difficulty of their Interpretation—Circumstances Suggesting Names of Vernal, Nevada and Bridal Veil Falls—Mr. Richardson’s Descriptions of the Falls and Round Rainbow—Py-we-ack Misplaced, and “Illiluette” an Absurdity—An English Name Suggested for Too-lool-lo-we-ack, Pohono and Tote-ack-ah-nü-la—Indian Superstitions and Spiritual Views—A Free National Park Desirable—Off on the Trail.

During our long stay in the Yosemite, I discovered that almost every prominent object and locality in and about it, had some distinctive appellation. Every peak and cliff, every cañon or ravine, meadow, stream and waterfall, had a designation by which it could be distinguished by the Yosemites. I made considerable effort to acquire these names in their native purity. Although I did not at that time learn all of them, I did in subsequent visits to the valley and to the camps of the remnants of the tribes, acquire, as I then believed, a very nearly correct pronunciation of most of them. I used all the advantages afforded by my position as one of the Spanish interpreters, and applied myself perseveringly to the task of preserving these names; for even at that early day I realized that public interest would, in time, be attached to that wonderful locality. I was ridiculed for the idea, or at least for the supposition that it probably would be awakened during my life-time.

I obtained many of the names of objects and locations from old Ten-ie-ya himself, whenever I could find him in a communicative mood. As he was reputed to be quite alinguist, speaking, besides his native Ah-wah-ne-chee, the Pai-ute, and other dialects, I regarded his authority as superior to that of either the Po-ho-no or Noot-chü Indians, who differed from him in the pronunciation of some of the names.

I was unable to converse with Ten-ie-ya except through an interpreter, but the words I noted down from the old chief’s lips as they sounded to my ear at the time, getting the signification as best I could, or not at all. There is really no more sentiment or refined imagery of expression among Indians than will be found among ignorant people of any kind. But living as they do in close affinity with nature, natural objects first attract their attention, and the dominant characteristics of any object impress themselves upon their language. Hence many of their words are supposed to be representative of natural sounds. Our Po-ho-no-chee and Noot-chü scouts were familiar with the dialect in common use by the Yosemites, and they also aided me, while at times they confused, in acquiring the proper names. The territory claimed by the Po-ho-no-chees, joined that of the Yosemites on the south. During the Summer months, they occupied the region of the Po-ho-no Meadows, and the vicinity of the Pohono Lake. Their territory, however, extended to the right bank of the South Fork of the Merced. It was there we found a little band on our first expedition. Some of this band were quite intelligent, having with the Noot-chüs, worked for Major Savage. It was from them that the Major first learned that the Yosemites were a composite band, collected from the disaffected of other bands in that part of California, and what is now Nevada; and as the Major said, the dialect in common use among them was nearly as much of a mixture as the components of the band itself, for he recognized Pai-ute, Kah-we-ah and Oregon Indian words among them.

Major Savage was intimately familiar with the dialects of his Indian miners and customers, and was probably at that time the best interpreter in California of the different mountain dialects.

I consulted him freely as to the pronunciation of the names, and learned his interpretation of the meaning of them. These names, or most of them, were first given for publication by myself, as received from the Yosemites and Po-ho-no-chees; together with English names which had been given to some of the same points by the battalion. I purposely avoided all attempts at description, giving instead, a few estimates of heights. The data then furnished by myself was published in editorials, and has been mostly preserved, though in an imperfect state, from some fault in my writing or that of the proof-reader. Reference to old files of the “California Chronicle,” “Sacramento Union,” “California Farmer” and the Mariposa papers, will show a somewhat different orthography from that now in use.15

While in the valley I made memoranda of names and important events, which I have preserved, and which, with interpretations kindly furnished me by Mr. B. B. Travis, an excellentmoderninterpreter, I am now using to verify my recollections and those of my comrades. While acquiring these names, I employed every opportunity to make them familiar, but this proved to be a thankless task, or at least it was an impossible one. The great length of some of the names, and the varied pronunciations, made the attempt an impracticable one. I then gave attention to the substitutionof suitable English names in place of the Indian words, and to supersede the fantastic and absurd ones already suggested and affixed by some of the command. It is so customary for frontiersmen to give distinctive names of their own coinage, that we had great difficulty in getting any of the Indian names adopted; and considerable judgment had to be exercised in selecting such English names as would “stick”—as would displace such names as the “Giant’s Pillar,” “Sam Patch’s Falls,” “The Devil’s Night-Cap,” etc., etc. Many English names were given because they were thought to be better than the Indian names, which could not be remembered or pronounced, and the meaning of which was not understood. The English names agreed upon and adopted at that time have since been retained, notwithstanding some adverse criticisms and efforts to supersede them by some fancied Indian or mythological substitute. Some of these names were the selection of my comrades—“Cloud’s Rest,” for one; because upon our first visit the party exploring the “Little Yosemite” turned back and hastened to camp upon seeing the clouds rapidly settling down to rest upon that mountain, thereby indicating the snow storm that soon followed.

The most of the names were however, selected by myself, and adopted by our command. This deference was awarded to my selections because I was actively interested in acquiring the Indian names and significations, and because I was considered the most interested in the scenery.

I have related in a previous chapter the incident of selecting the name “Yosemite” for the valley, not then knowing its Indian name. As the “High Fall,” near which we were encamped, appeared to be the principal one of the Sierras, and was the fallpar excellence, I gave that the name of “Yosemite Falls,” and in so naming it I but followed out the idea of the Indians who called it “Choolook”or “Scholook,” which signifies in this case “The Fall.” A comparison of the Yosemite Falls with those known in other parts of the world, will show that in elements of picturesque beauty, height, volume, color and majestic surroundings, the Yosemite has no rival upon earth. The Zambesi and Niagara are typical of volume, but the Yosemite is sixteen times greater in height than Niagara, and about eight times that of the Victoria Falls. The upper part of the Yosemite is more than twice the height of the Svoringvoss, of Norway, and lacks but thirty feet of being twice as high as the highest of the Southerland waterfalls, of New Zealand. The three falls of the Southerland aggregate but 1,904 feet, 730 less than the Yosemite.

The Ribbon Fall of the El Capitan has a sheer descent of 2,100 feet, but its beauty disappears with the melting snow. The other falls were only designated by the names of the streams upon which they are situated. The river Merced was spoken of as the river of Ah-wah-ne; but the three principal branches were variously designated; the main, or middle, up to the Vernal Fall, as “Yan-o-pah,” the “Water Cloud” branch, and above the Vernal, as “Yo-wy-we-ack,” “the twisting rock branch.”

The north and south branches had their distinctive names; the north, Py-we-ack, meaning the branch of the “Glistening Rocks,” and the south, Too-lool-we-ack, or more definitely, Too-lool-lo-we-ack. The modern interpretations of some of these names may be regarded as quite fanciful, though Major Savage would declare that Indian languages were so full of figures of speech that without imagination they could not be understood.

The strictly literal interpretation of this name would be inadmissable, but it is well enough to say, that to the unconscious innocence of their primitive state, the word simply represented an effort of nature in the difficult passage of the water down through the rocky gorge. It is derived fromToo-lool and We-ack, and means, ὁ ποταμὸς, ὃς διὰ πέτρας οὐρεῖ. This name has been published as if by authority to signify. “The Beautiful”—how beautiful, the learned in Greek may judge.

This really beautiful fall was visited by few of our battalion, and owing to the impracticability of following up the cañon above the fall, and the great difficulty of access to it, it was left neglected; the command contenting itself with a distant view. In view of the discoveries of Mr. Muir that there were glaciers at its source, and that the cliff now known as “Glacier Point” may be said to mark the entrance to this “South Cañon,” a name often confounded with “South Fork,” and especially because of the impropriety of translating this Indian name, I think it advisable to call this the Glacier Fall, and, therefore, give it that name in this volume. The name of “Illeuette” is not Indian, and is, therefore, meaningless and absurd. In accordance with the customs of these mountain people of naming their rivers from the most characteristic features of their source, the North or Ten-ie-ya branch of the Merced, which comes down the North Cañon from the glistening glacial rocks at its source, was called Py-we-ack, “the river of glistening rocks,” or more literally, perhaps, “the river-smoothed rocks.” Whether from Pai, a river, or from Py-ca-bo, a spring, I am in doubt. If the first syllable of the name Py-we-ack be derived from Py-ca-bo, then, probably, the name signified to them “the glistening rock spring branch,” as the ice-burnished rocks at the head of Lake Ten-ie-ya stand at the source of the river.

I have never been satisfied with the poetical interpretation given the name, nor with its transfer to “Yan-o-pah,” the branch of the “little cloud,” as rendered by Mr. Travis. But as Py-we-ack has been displaced from Lake Ten-ie-ya and its outlet, it is proper and in accordance with the customto call the branch Ten-ie-ya also. The name of Ten-ie-ya was given to the lake at the time of its discovery. It was there we captured the remnant of the Yosemite band, as will be explained in the next chapter. The name of Ten-ie-ya Cañon, Ten-ie-ya Fork and Lake Ten-ie-ya, has for this reason superseded the original name of Py-we-ack; but in naming the lake, I preserved an Indian name that represented the central figure in all of our operations.

Wai-ack was the name for “Mirror Lake,” as well as for the mountain it so perfectly reflected. The lake itself was not particularly attractive or remarkable, but in the early morning, before the breeze swept up the cañon, the reflections were so perfect, especially of what is now known as Mt. Watkins, that even our scouts called our attention to it by pointing and exclaiming: “Look at Wai-ack,” interpreted to mean the “Water Rock.” This circumstance suggested the name of “Mirror Lake.” The name was opposed by some, upon the ground that all still water was a mirror. My reply established the name. It was that other conditions, such as light and shade, were required, as when looking into a well, the wall of the Half Dome perfecting the conditions, and that when shown another pool that was more deserving, we would transfer the name. Captain Boling approved the name, and it was so called by the battalion.

The middle or main branch was designated by the Yosemites—from the fork of the Glacial Branch up to the Vernal Fall—as Yan-o-pah, because they were compelled to pass through the spray of the Vernal, to them a “little cloud,” while passing up this cañon. The Indian name of the Nevada Fall, “Yo-wy-we,” or Yo-wy-ye, and that of Too-lool-lo-we-ack, afforded innumerable jests and amusing comments, and when the suggestion of naming these falls was made, it was received with rude hilarity. Names withoutnumber were presented as improvements on the originals. These names were indeed more than my own gravity would endure; Yo-wy-we being represented at first to signify the “wormy” water, from the twist orsquirmgiven to the water in falling upon an obstructing rock; and therefore, after consultation with a few of my personal friends, I suggested Vernal, as an English name for Yan-o-pah, and Nevada, for that of Yo-wy-we. The Nevada Fall was so called because it was the nearest to the Sierra Nevada, and because the name was sufficiently indicative of a wintry companion for our spring.

MIRROR LAKE—WATKINS’ AND CLOUDS’ REST.

It would be a difficult task to trace out and account for all of our impressions, or for the forms they take; but my recollection is that the cool, moist air, and newly-springing Kentucky blue-grass at the Vernal, with the sun shining through the spray as in an April shower, suggested thesensationof spring before the name of Vernal occurred to me; while the white, foaming water, as it dashed down Yo-wy-we from the snowy mountains, represented to my mind a vast avalanche of snow. In concluding my advocacy of these names, I represented the fact that while we were enjoying the vernal showers below, hoary-headed winter was pouring his snowy avalanches above us. Then, quoting from Byron, I said:

The Vernal “...mounts in spray the skies, and thence againReturns in an unceasing shower, which roundWith its unemptied cloud of gentle rain,Is an eternal April to the ground,Making it all one emerald.”

These names were given during our long stay in the valley, at a time when

“The fragrant strife of sunshine with the mornSweeten’d the air to ecstasy!”

It is agreeably complimentary for me to believe that our motives in giving English names were comprehended, andour action in the matter appreciated by others. Mr. Richardson, in “Beyond the Mississippi,” shows an almost intuitive perception of our reasons for adopting the English names given to the principal falls in the Yosemite. He says: “These names are peculiarly fitting—Bridal Veil indeed looks like a veil of lace; in summer when Bridal Veil and Yosemite dwarf, Vernal still pours its ample torrent, and Nevada is always white as a snow-drift. The Yosemite is height, the Vernal is volume, the Bridal Veil is softness, but the Nevada is height, volume and softness combined. South Fork cataract, most inaccessible of all, we did not visit. In spring each fall has twenty times as much water as in summer. On the whole Yosemite is incomparably the most wonderful feature on our continent.” Speaking of the Vernal Fall, Mr. Richardson says: “I saw what to Hebrew prophet had been a vision of heaven, or the visible presence of the Almighty. It was the round rainbow—the complete circle. There were two brilliant rainbows of usual form, the crescent, the bow proper. But while I looked the two horns of the inner or lower crescent suddenly lengthened, extending on each side to my feet, an entire circle, perfect as a finger ring. In two or three seconds it passed away, shrinking to the first dimensions. Ten minutes later it formed again and again, and again as suddenly disappeared. Every sharp gust of wind showering the spray over me, revealed for a moment the round rainbow. Completely drenched, I stood for an hour and a half and saw fully twenty times that dazzling circle of violet and gold on a ground-work of wet, dark rocks, gay dripping flowers and vivid grasses. I never looked upon any other scene in nature so beautiful and impressive.” Mr. Richardson has with a great deal of enthusiasm given a vivid description of what appeared to me as a glowing representation of youthful spring; and to which the name of “vernal” was, I think, consistently and appropriately applied.

Mr. Hutchings, in criticising the name Vernal, has mis-stated the Indian name for this fall, furnished him by myself, and published in his magazine and his “Scenes of Wonder;” and while neglecting to speak in terms of the vivid green of the yielding sod that “squirts” water, he eloquently describes the characteristics of avernalshower; or the Yosemites “little water cloud,” Can-o-pah; or, if it pleases him better, Yan-o-pah. The name given by the Yosemites to the Ten-ie-ya branch of the Merced was unmistakably Py-we-ack. This name has been transferred from its original locality by someromanticpreserver of Indian names. While passing over to Yan-o-pah, it was provided with an entirely new signification. It is indeed a laughable idea for me to even suppose that a worm and acorn-eating Indian would ever attempt to construct a name to mean “a shower of sparkling crystals;” his diet must have been improved bymodernintelligent culture. The signification is certainly poetical, and is butone stepremoved from the sublime. One objection only can be raised against it; it is a little too romantic; something after the style of the tradition furnished Mr. Bancroft.16

Names were given to the numerous little streams that poured into the valley during the melting of the snow, and formed many beautiful water-falls and cascades, but I shall not attempt to describe them, as it would serve no useful purpose to give the common-place, and in some instances, veryprimitivenames of these ephemeral streams. In any other mountains, in any other country, great interest would attach to them; but in the Yosemite, they are but mere suggestions to the grander objects that overshadow them.

Another witness to the propriety of the English names is Professor J. D. Whitney, State Geologist. In his admirable “Yosemite Guide Book” he says: “The names given by the early white visitors to the region, have entirely replacedthe native ones; and they are, in general, quite sufficiently euphonious and proper, some of them, perhaps slightly inclined to sentimentality; for if we recognize the appropriateness of the ‘Bridal Veil’ as a designation for the fall called Po-ho-no by the Indians, we fail to perceive why the ‘Virgin’s Tears’ should be flowing on the opposite side of the valley.”

This criticism is undoubtedly just. It seems as if some one had made an enormous stride across from the poetically sublime to ridiculous sentimentality. It is fortunate that the fall dries up early in the season!

The name of “Bridal-Veil” was suggested as an appropriate English name for the Fall of the Pohono by Warren Bær, Esq., at the time editor of the “Mariposa Democrat,” while we were visiting the valley together. The appropriateness of the name was at once acknowledged, and adopted as commemorative of his visit. Mr. Bær was a man of fine culture, a son of the celebrated Doctor Bær of Baltimore.

The Pohono takes its rise in a small lake known as Lake Pohono, twelve or fifteen miles in a southernly direction from the Fall. The stream is fed by several small branches that run low early in the season.

The whole basin drained, as well as the meadows adjacent, was known to us of the battalion, as the Pohono branch and meadows.

The band who inhabited this region as a summer resort, called themselves Po-ho-no-chee, or Po-ho-na-chee, meaning the dwellers in Po-ho-no, as Ah-wah-ne-chee was understood to indicate the occupants of Ah-wah-nee. This delightful summer retreat was famous for the growth of berries and grasses, and was a favorite resort for game. The black seeds of a coarse grass found there, were used as food. When pulverized in stone mortars, the meal was made into mushand porridge. I found it impossible to obtain the literal signification of the word, but learned beyond a doubt that Po-ho-no-chee was in some way connected with the stream. I have recently learned that Po-ho-no means a daily puffing wind, and when applied to fall, stream, or meadow, means simply the fall, stream, or meadow of the puffing wind, and when applied to the tribe of Po-ho-no-chees, who occupied the meadows in summer, indicated that they dwelled on the meadows of that stream.

Mr. Cunningham says: “Po-ho-no, in the Indian language, means a belt or current of wind coming in puffs and moving in one direction.” There is such a current, in its season, on the Old Millerton Road, where the dust is swept off clean. The Chow-chilla Indians call that the Po-ho-no. The Po-ho-no of the Yosemite makes its appearance where the two cascade creeks enter the canon, and this air current is daily swept up the canon to the Bridal Veil Fall, and up its stream, in puffs of great power. The water is thrown back and up in rocket-like jets, far above the fall, making it uniquely remarkable among the wonders of the valley.

Mr. Hutching’s interpretation is entirely fanciful, as are most of his Indian translations.”

The name for the little fall to which the name of “Virgin’s Tears” has been applied, was known to us as “Pigeon Creek Fall.” The Indian name is “Lung-yo-to-co-ya”; its literal meaning is “Pigeon Basket,” probably signifying to them “Pigeon Nests,” orRoost. In explanation of the name for the creek, I was told that west of El Capitan, in the valley of the stream, and upon the southern slopes, pigeons were at times quite numerous. Near the southwest base of the cliff we found a largecaché. The supplies were put up on rocks, on trees and on posts. These granarieswere constructed of twigs, bark and grass, with the tops covered in and rounded like a large basket.

If thiscachéhad any connection with the name of “Pigeon Baskets,” Lung-yo-to-co-ya would probably designate “The Pigeon CreekCaché.”

After a reverential salutation, “El Capitan” must now receive my attention.

It has been stated in print that the signification of Tote-ack-ah-noo-la was “Crane Mountain,” and that the name was given because of the habit sand-hill cranes had of entering the valley over this cliff. I never knew of this habit. Many erroneous statements relating to the Yosemite have appeared—some in Appleton’s Encyclopædia, and one very amusing one in Bancroft’s Traditions—but none appear to me more improbable.

During our long stay at our second visit, this cliff was invariably called by our scouts Tote-ack-ah-noo-la, and with some slight difference in the terminal syllable, was so called by Ten-ie-ya. This word was invariably translated to mean the “Rock Chief,” or “The Captain.”

Upon one occasion I asked, “Why do you call the cliff Tote-ack-ah-noo-la?” The Indian’s reply was, “Because he looks like one.” I then asked, “What was meant byhe?” at the same time saying that the cliff was not a man, to be called “he.” His reply was, “Come with me and see.” Taking Sandino with me, I went, and as the Indian reached a point a little above and some distance out from the cliff, he triumphantly pointed to the perfect image of a man’s head and face, with side whiskers, and with an expression of the sturdy English type, and asked, “Does he not look like Tote-ack-ah-noo-la?” The “Rock Chief,” or “Captain,” was again Sandino’s interpretation of the word while viewing the likeness.

This was the first intimation that any of us had of thereason why the name was applied, and it wasshownin response to the question asked, why the rock had been personified.

To-tor-kon, is the name for a sand-hill crane, and ni-yul-u-ka, is the Pai-ute for head; but “crane-head” can scarcely be manufactured out of Tote-ack-ah-noo-la. It appears to me most probable that Tote-ack-ah-noo-la is derived from “ack,” a rock, and To-whon-e-o, meaning chief. I am not etymologist enough to understand just how the word has been constructed, but am satisfied that the primates of the compound are rock and chief. If, however, I am found in error, I shall be most willing to acknowledge it, for few things appear more uncertain, or more difficult to obtain, than a complete understanding of thesoulof an Indian language; principally because of the ignorance and suspicion with which a persistent and thorough research is met by the sensitively vain and jealous savages.

In leaving this subject, I would say that before it be too late, a careful and full collection of vocabularies ofallthe tongues should be made. I am aware of what has already been done by the labors of Schoolcraft, and the officers of the army in more modern times; but there is yet left a large field for persistent labor, that should be worked by the Smithsonian Institute or ethnological societies.

In adopting the Spanish interpretation, “El Capitan,” for Tote-ack-ah-noo-la, we pleased our mission interpreters and conferred upon the majestic cliff a name corresponding to its dignity. When this name was approved it set aside forever those more numerous than belong to royal families. It is said by Mr. Hutchings that a profile likeness is readily traced on the angle of the cliff. The one pointed out to me was above the pine tree alcove on the southern face of the cliff, half way up its wall. It appeared to have been formed by the peculiar conformation of the rock and oxidation.The chemical stain of iron, or other mineral substance, had produced this representation, which was looked upon with superstitious awe.

“The Fallen Rocks,” “The Frog Mountains,” or “Three Brothers,” the “Yosemite Falls,” “The Lost Arrow,” “Indian Cañon” and “The Arrow-wood Rocks” have already been noticed in these pages. It remains for me to briefly notice a few more objects and close this chapter. The names “North Dome,” “South Dome” and “Half Dome” were given by us during our long stay in the valley from their localities and peculiar configuration. Some changes have been made since they were adopted. The peak called by us the “South Dome” has since been given the name of “Sentinel Dome,” and the “Half Dome,” Tis-sa-ack, represented as meaning the “Cleft Rock,” is now called by many the “South Dome.”17The name for the “North Dome” is To-ko-ya, its literal signification “The Basket.” The name given to the rocks now known as “The Royal Arches” is Scho-ko-ya when alluding to the fall, and means the “Basket Fall,” as coming from To-ko-ya, and when referring to the rock itself it was called Scho-ko-ni, meaning the movable shade to a cradle, which, when in position, formed an arched shade over the infant’s head. The name of “The Royal Arch” was given to it by a comrade who was a member of the Masonic Fraternity, and it has since been called “The Royal Arches.” The “Half Dome” was figuratively spoken of as “The Sentinel” by our mission Indians, because of its overlooking the valley. The present “Sentinel” they called “Loya,” a corruption of Olla (Oya), Spanish for an earthen water-pot. The mountain tribes use, instead, a long-pointed basket, shaped somewhat like that rock, which the basket is supposed to resemble.

SENTINEL ROCK.(3,043 feet in height.)

SENTINEL ROCK.

(3,043 feet in height.)

The name of “Glacier Point” is said to be Pa-til-le-ma, a translation of which I am unable to give. Ho-yas, and not Lo-ya, as has been stated by some, referred to certain holes in detached rocks west of the Sentinel, which afforded“milling privileges” for a number of squaws, and hence, the locality was a favorite camp ground. “The Sentinel” or “Loya,” simply marked the near locality of the Ho-yas or mortars, or “Thecamp ground;” as it does nowThe Hotels. It was a common practice for visitors to confer new names on the objects of their enthusiastic admiration, and these were frequently given to the public through letters to newspapers, while others may be found in the more enduring monuments of literature. It is a matter of no surprise that so few of them everstuck. But little change has really been made in the English names for the more important objects within the valley and in its immediate vicinity. The Cathedral Rocks and spires, known as Poo-see-na-chuc-ka, meaning “Mouse-proof Rocks,” from a fancied resemblance in shape to their acorn magazines orcachés, or a suitability for such use, have been somewhat individualized by their English names.

Of Ko-sü-kong, the name of the “Three Graces,” I never learned the meaning. Ta-pun-ie-me-te is derived from Ta-pun-ie, meaning the toes, because of walking on tip-toes across, and referred to the “stepping stones” that were at the lower ford. Mr. Travis’ “succession of rocks” simply indicated theturning-offplace. There are other names that it appears unimportant for me to notice. They have been sufficiently well preserved in Professor Whitney’s valuable Guide Book.

Some romantic believers in the natural tendencies of the Indians to be poetical in their expressions, twist the most vulgar common-place expressions and names into significations poetically refined, and of devotional sincerity.

Others have taken the same license in their desire to cater to the taste of those credulous admirers of theNOBLE RED MAN, the ideal of romance, the reality of whom is graded low down in the scale of humanity. Mr. Hutchings, who, wereit not for his exuberant imagination, might have learned better, gives the signification of “Lung-oo-to-koo-ya” as “Long and Slender,” and applies it to what he calls the Ribbon Fall. His name is better than his interpretation. Mr. H. also says that the signification of To-toc-ah-nü-la is “a Semi-Deity;” that of “Tissa-ack” “Goddess of the Valley,” and that Po-ho-no means “The Spirit of the Evil Wind.”

These interpretations, like the “sparkling shower of crystals” are more artistically imaginative than correct. The Pai-ute for wind, is Ni-gat, and the Kah-we-ah, is Yah-i, one or the other of which tongues were used by the Yosemites; though the Pai-ute, or a dialect of it, was given the preference.

The savageshavea crude, undefinable idea of a Deity or Great Spirit, a Spirit of Good, who never does them harm, and whose home is in the happy land they hope to reach after death. This happy hereafter, is supposed by most on the western slope of the Sierras to be located in the West, while those on the eastern slope or within the Colorado Basin, in Arizona and in Mexico, locate it in the East. They all have a superstitious fear of evil spirits, which they believe have the power to do them great harm, and defeat their undertakings.

They do not as a rule look to the Great Spirit for immediate protection from evil, but instead, rely upon amulets, incense and charms, or “medicine” bags. Through these and certain ceremonies of their priests or “mediums,” they endeavor to protect themselves and their families from the evil influence of spirits in and out of the flesh.

They believe that the spirits of the dead who have not, through proper ceremonies, been released from the body and allowed at once to go to the happy land, were evil spirits that were doomed to haunt certain localities. Theylooked with superstitious awe upon objects and localities, which to them were of mysterious character. Even familiar objects were sometimes looked upon as having been taken possession of by spirits. These spirits it was supposed could do injury to those who might venture near them without the protection afforded by their charms, or certain offerings to their priests for indulgences from the spiritual inhabitants. Streams were often said to be controlled by spirits, and for this reason, offerings of tobacco and other substances were at times thrown in as a propitiation for past offenses, or as an offering for something in expectancy. They believe that the elements are all under control, or may be used by the more powerful spirits, and, owing probably to its infrequency in California, lightning seemed to be an especial object of awe and wonder to them.

Waterfalls seemed not to engage their attention for their beauty, but because of the power they manifested; and in none of their objections made to the abandonment of their home, was there anything said to indicate any appreciation of the scenery. Their misfortunes, accidents and failures were generally believed to have resulted from evil spiritual interference, and to insure success in any undertaking, these dark or evil spirits must first be conciliated through their “medicine men,” from whom they obtain absolution.

All spirits that had not been released and taken their flight to their happy Western spirit-land were considered as evil; and only the Great Spirit was believed to be very good. The Indians of the Yosemite Valley did not look upon Tote-ack-ah-nü-lah as a veritable Deity or “semi-Deity.” They looked upon this cliff, and the representation of the likeness of a human face, with the same mysterious awe and superstitious feeling that they entertained for some other objects; though perhaps their reverence was in a somewhat higher degree stimulated by this imposing human appearance; andtheir ability, therefore, the better to personify it. They regarded this vast mountain as an emblem of some mysterious power, beyond their comprehension. From my knowledge of theirreligious belief, I have come to the conclusion that their ideas in this direction are wholly spiritual, without material representation, except as stated, through symbolic ideas, growing out of their superstitious ignorance, like some ignorant Christians. They have in imagination peopled the rocks and mountains, woods and valleys, streams and waterfalls with innumerable spiritual occupants, possessed of supernatural or spiritual powers, none of which are believed by them to equal the power of the Great Spirit whose home is in the West, and who prohibits the return of the evil ones, until a probationary existence here upon this earth shall have given them such knowledge of and disgust with evil as will fit them for the enjoyment of good.

The special inconsistency of this belief seems to be, that if one of these demons can lure any one to destruction, the victim will be compelled to take the place and occupation of the evil spirit, who is at once liberated and takes its flight to join its family or such members of it, as are already with the blessed. This idea seemed to be based upon the natural selfishness of human nature, that would gladly fix its responsibilities and sufferings upon another. A writer in his descriptions of the Yosemite says: “The savage lowers his voice to a whisper, and crouches tremblingly past Po-ho-no, while the very utterance of the name is so dreaded by him, that the discoverers of the valley obtained it with difficulty.” These statements were prefaced by the assertion that “Po-ho-no is an evil spirit of the Indians’ mythology.” On our second visit to the valley, it will be remembered, we found huts built by the Yosemites not far from the Po-ho-no Fall.

I never found any difficulty in learning the name of thisfall, or observed any more fear of spirits exhibited at this fall than at the Yosemite fall; but in later years, for causes that will appear in the course of this narrative, the little meadow and detached rocks west of Po-ho-no, and near to the foot of the Mariposa trail; became haunted ground to the remnant of the band, for disaster and death followed the commission of crime at that locality.

Savages are seldom able to trace to themselves the cause of misfortune, and hence evil spirits must bear the burden of their complaint. For this service they are well paid through their representatives, the “medicine men.” I have often been amused, and agreeably entertained while listening to their traditionary literature.

Among the Chippewa and Dahcota tribes, my likeness to a brother, who was a trader, was recognized, and many times I was honored by a prominent place being given me in their lodges and at their dances. Some of their mysteries I was not permitted to witness, but the consecration of the ground for the dance, which is performed with great ceremony, I have several times seen, and had its signification fully explained to me. The ceremony differs but little among the different tribes, and consists of invocations, burning incense, scattering down, feathers and evergreens upon the pathway or floor of the dance, lighting of the sacred fires with their ancient fire-sticks, which are still preserved among the priests, and repeating certain cabalistic words, the meaning of which they do not even pretend to understand, but which are supposed to have a most potent influence. They also have their pantomimes and romances, which they repeat to each other like children. This legendary literature is largely imaginative, but I found the California Indians less poetical in thought and feeling than eastern tribes, and less musical, though perhaps as primitively figurative in expression.

Though seemingly unimpressed by their sublime surroundings, their figures and comparisons, when not objectionable, were beautiful, because natural. The Pai-ute and Mono Colony originally established by Ten-ie-ya, was the result of a desire to improve their physical condition. They were attached to this valley as a home. The instinctive attraction that an Indian has for his place of nativity is incomprehensible; it is more than a religious sentiment; it is a passion. Here, sheltered in a measure from the storms of winter, and the burning heat of summer, they met as in an earthly paradise, to exchange the products of either side of the Sierras, to engage in a grand hunt and festival offer up religious sacrifices, and awaken the echoes of the valley with their vociferous orations. Should their skill fail them in the chase, and the mountain or brook refuse their luscious offerings, they had a never-failing resource in the skill with which they could dispossess the native Californian, or the newly arrived immigrant of his much prized herds, andtranslatethem to their mountain home. Nor was there need of herd-men to guard their fleecy flocks or roving herds, for the prancing horse or gentle kine, having once been slid over the slippery gateway, avoided the obstruction ever after; and remained contented in their fields of blue grass and clover.

THE INDIAN BELLE.

But, when the influence of the “golden era” finally reached this once blissfully ignorantpeople, and wants were created that their belles and beaux had never known before, their imaginations excited by the superfluities of civilization, their natural cunning came at once to their aid, and lo! the “honest miner” or timid Chinaman contributed from their scanty stores and wardrobes, or the poorly sheltered goods of the mountain trader opened their canvas walls to the keen arguments of their flinty knives, and wants real or fancied were at once supplied.

What then was there lacking, to make the Yosemites a happy people, removed as they were from the bad influences of whiskey and the white man’s injustice? Only this: “the whites would not let them alone.” So Ten-ie-ya had said, as if aggrieved. Like all his race, and perhaps like all ignorant, passionate and willful persons, he appeared unconscious of his own wrong-doing, and of the inevitable fate that he was bringing upon himself and his people.

In his talk with Major Savage, he had spoken of the verdure clothing the valley, as sufficient for his wants, but at the time, knowing that acorns formed the staple of their food, and that clover, grass, sorrel and the inner bark of trees were used to guard against biliousness and eruptive diseases, little heed was given to his declaration. Now, however, that we saw the valley clothed with exquisite and useful verdure, for June was now at hand, Ten-ie-ya’s remarks had a greater significance, and we could understand how large flocks and herds had been stolen, and fattened to supply their wants. The late claimants to this lovely locality, “this great moral show,” have been relieved of their charge by act of Congress, and fifty thousand dollars given them for their claims. It will probably now remain forever free to visitors. The builders of the toll roads and trails should also receive fair compensation for their pioneer labors in building them, that they may also be free to all.When this is done, this National Park will be esteemed entirely worthy of this great republic and of the great golden State that has accepted its guardianship.18

Perhaps no one can better than myself realize the value of the labors performed by the early pioneers, that has made it possible for tourists to visit in comfort some of the most prominent objects of interest; but “a National Park” should be entirely free. In suggesting a new name for the fall of Too-lool-lo-we-ack, or the absurd “Illiluette,” I wish to honor Mr. Muir for his intelligent explorations and discoveries, and at the same time feel that the word glacier is the most appropriate. Of this, however, the residents of the valley will judge.

The names of the different objects and localities of especial interest have now become well established by use. It is not a matter of so much surprise that there is such a difference in the orthography of the names. I only wonder that they have been retained in a condition to be recognized. It is not altogether the fault of the interpreters that discrepancies exist in interpretation or pronunciation, although both are often undesignedly warped to conform to the ideality of the interpreter. Many of the names have been modernized and adorned withtransparenciesin order to illuminate the subject of which the parties were writing. Those who once inhabited this region, and gave distinctive appellations, have all disappeared. The names given by them can be but indifferently preserved or counterfeited by their camp followers, the “California Diggers;” but June is now with us, and we must hasten on to our work of following up the trail.

A Mountain Storm—Delay of Supplies—Clams and Ipecac—Arrival of Train—A Cute Indian—Indian Sagacity—A Dangerous Weapon—Capture of Indian Village—An Eloquent Chief—Woman’s RightsversusSquaw’s Wrongs—A Disturbed Family—A Magnificent Sunrise—On a Slippery Slope—Sentiment and Poetry—Arrival at the Fresno.

A mountain storm raged with such violence as to stampede the mules of the pack-train while the escort were encamped on the South Fork. The mules were not overtaken until they reached the foot-hills of the Fresno. In the meantime, while impatiently awaiting their return, our rations gave out. In order to somewhat appease our hunger, Dr. Black distributed his hospital stores among us. There were some canned fruits and meats, and several cans of oysters and clams. The southerners of the command waived their rights to the clams, but cast lots for the oysters. Thinking we had a prize in the clams, we brought to bear our early recollections of Eastern life, and compounded a most excellent and, what we supposed would be, a most nourishing soup. Our enjoyment, however, of this highly prized New England dish was of short duration; for from some cause, never satisfactorily explained by Dr. Black,or other eminent counsel, our Eastern mess, as if moved by one impulse of re-gurgitation,gave up their clams. Fortunately for us our supplies arrived the next morning; for the game procurable was not sufficient for the command.Major Savage sent Cow-chitty, a brother of Pon-wat-chee, the chief of the Noot-choo band, whose village we surprised before we discovered the valley, as chief of scouts. He was accompanied by several young warriors, selected because they were all familiar with the Sierra Nevada trails and the territory of the Pai-utes, where it was thought probable the expedition would penetrate.

Captain Boling had in his report to Major Savage, complained of the incapacity of Sandino as guide, and expressed the opinion that he stood in awe of Ten-ie-ya. By letter, the Major replied, and particularly advised Captain Boling that implicit confidence could be placed in Cow-chitty and his scouts, as the sub-chief was an old enemy of Ten-ie-ya, and was esteemed for his sagacity and wood-craft, which was superior to that of any Indian in his tribe. Captain Boling had improved in health and strength, and concluded to venture on his contemplated expedition over the mountains. He at once ordered preparations to be made. A camp-guard was detailed, and a special supply train fitted out. All was ready for a start in the morning. During the evening Captain Boling consulted our new guide as to what trail would be best to follow to the Mono pass and over the mountains. Cow-chitty had already learned from our Po-ho-no scouts and those of his own tribe, the extent of our explorations, and had had a long talk with Sandino as well as with Ten-ie-ya. The mission Indian and the old chief tried to make the new guide believe that the Yosemites had gone over the mountains to the Monos. Indian-like, he had remained very grave and taciturn, while the preparations were going on for the expedition. Now, however, that he was consulted by Captain Boling, he was willing enough to give his advice, and in a very emphatic manner declared his belief to the Captain that Ten-ie-ya’s people were not far off; that they were either hiding in some ofthe rocky cañons in the vicinity of the valley, or in those of the Tuolumne, and discouraged the idea of attempting the expedition with horses. Although this did not coincide with the views of our Captain, the earnestness of Cow-chitty decided him to make another attempt in the near vicinity before crossing the mountains. The horses and supply-train were accordingly left in camp, and we started at daylight on foot, with three days’ rations packed in our blankets. We left the valley this time by way of the Py-we-ack cañon, and ascended the north cliff trail, a short distance above “Mirror Lake.” Soon after reaching the summit, Indian signs were discovered near the trail we were on. The old trail up the slope of the cañon, was here abandoned, and the fresh trail followed up to and along the ridges just below the snow line. These signs and the tortuous course pursued, were similar to the tracks followed on our trip up Indian Cañon, and were as easily traced until we reached an elevation almost entirely covered with snow from five to ten feet deep, except on exposed tops of ridges, where the snow had blown off to the north side or melted away.

I had accompanied our guide in advance of the command, but observing that our course was a zig-zag one, some times almost doubling on our trail, I stopped and told the guide to halt until the Captain came up. He had been following the ridges without a sign of a trail being visible, although he had sometimes pointed to small pieces of coarse granite on the rocky divides, which he said had been displaced by Ten-ie-ya’s scouts. That in going out or returning from their camps, they had kept on the rocky ridges, and had avoided tracking the snow or soft ground, so as to prevent the Americans from following them. As we stopped, he called me a little out of hearing of those with me, and by pantomime and a few words indicated his belief in the near presence of Indians.

When the Captain came up he said: “The hiding-place of the Yosemites is not far off. If they had crossed the mountains their scouts would not be so careful to hide their trail. They would follow the old trail if they came to watch you, because it is direct, and would only hide their tracks when they were again far from the valley and near their rancheria.” This was, in part, an answer to Captain Boling’s inquiry as to why we had left the old trail, and gone so far out of our way. I explained to him what Cow-chitty had stated, and pointed out what the guide or scout said was a fresh trail. The Captain looked tired and disheartened, but with a grim smile said: “That may be a fresh Indian track, but I can’t see it. If left to my own feelings and judgment, I should say we were on another wild-goose chase. If the guide can see tracks, and thinks he has got ’em this time, I reckon it is better to follow on; but if there is any short-cut tell him to give us some landmarks to go by; for I find I am not as strong as I thought. Let us take another look at thisfreshtrail, and then you may get Cow-chitty’s idea as to the probable course this trail will take further on.” As we moved up the trail a little farther, the expert scout pointed out more fresh signs, but Captain Boling failed to discern a trail, and gave up the examination, and as he seated himself for a momentary rest, said: “I reckon it is all right, Doc. The Major says in his letter that I can bet on Cow-chitty every time. But I can’t see any more of a trail on this rocky ridge than I can see the trail of that wood-pecker as he flies through the air, but I have some faith in instinct, for I reckon that is what it is that enables him to follow a trail that he imagines should be there. We shall have to trust him to follow it, and let him have his own way as you would a fox-hound; if he don’t, puppy-like, take the back track, or run wild with us over some of these ledges.” Old Ten-ie-ya was now appealedto for information concerning the fresh signs, but he only reiterated his former statement that his people had gone over the mountains to the Monos, and the signs he said were those of Tuolumne Indians. Captain Boling had taken the old chief along with us on this trip, hoping to make him of some use, if not directly as guide, indirectly; it was thought he might betray his people’s hiding-place. But the Captain was disappointed in this, for no finished gamester ever displayed a more immovable countenance than did Ten-ie-ya when questioned at any time during the expedition. A cord had again been placed around his waist to secure his allegiance, and as we were about to move ahead once more, he very gravely said that if we followed the signs, they would take us over to the Tuolumne.

Before this Sandino had professed to agree with Ten-ie-ya, but now he carefully withheld his own opinions, and as carefully rendered his interpretations. He feared Cow-chitty more than Ten-ie-ya; and he was frequently seen to cross himself while muttering his prayers. Spencer and myself re-assured the timid creature, and made him quite happy by telling him that we would guard him against the “Gentiles,” as he called the natives.

I explained to Cow-chitty our inability to follow the tracks as he did over the bare granite. This flattered him, and he then pointed out his own method of doing so, which was simple enough with one of keen sight. It consisted entirely in discovering fragments of stone and moss that had been displaced, and broken off and scattered upon the ground. The upper surface of the broken fragments of stone were smooth and bleached, while the under surface was dark or colored. It was impossible to walk over these stony ridges without displacing some of the fragments, and these the quick eye of Cow-chitty was sure to discover. Cow-chitty was pleased when told of CaptainBoling’s appreciation of his sagacity, and honored by the confidence the Captain began to show him. He expressed his gratification by being more communicative than he had been before. He said, “These signs tell me that the Yosemite scouts have been watching all the movements of the Americans, and the trails that will take you to their camps. They will not look for you on this trail. They are watching for you from the ridges nearer the valley. We will not have to go far to find their camps. This trail will lead us to the head of the Py-we-ack, where the Pai-ute or Mono trail crosses into the upper valley of the Tuolumne; and if we don’t find them at the lake, we will soon know if they have crossed the mountains.”

He then proposed that Captain Boling send out scouts to intercept and capture the Yosemite scouts, who might be below us watching the valley. This being interpreted to Captain Boling, he at once adopted the suggestion of the scout. He selected three of our best runners, and directed Cow-chitty to select three of his. These were sent out in pairs—an Indian and a white man. The scouts were placed under direction of the sub-chief, who followed the trail, and indicated to the Captain the most direct route for the main body to follow. In health Captain Boling was athletic and ambitious on the march. He had now, however, over-estimated his strength, and suffered considerably from fatigue; but the halt afforded him a rest that very much refreshed him. I traveled with him during the remainder of the march, so as to be near him as interpreter, and took charge of Ten-ie-ya. The Captain, Ten-ie-ya, Sandino and myself traveled together. Our march was more leisurely than in the earlier part of the day. This allowed Captain Boling to somewhat recover from his fatigue.

On an ascending spur that ran down to the Py-we-ack, we found Cow-chitty quietly awaiting our approach. As wehalted, he pointed out to Captain Boling a dim circle of blue smoke, that appeared to eddy under the lee of a large granite knob or peak, and said, “Rancheria.” Old Ten-ie-ya was standing in front of me, but exhibited no interest in the discovery. As I lowered my line of vision to the base of the cliff, to trace the source of the smoke, there appeared the Indian village, resting in fancied security, upon the border of a most beautiful little lake, seemingly not more than a half mile away. To the lake I afterwards gave the name of Ten-ie-ya. The granite knob was so bare, smooth and glistening, that Captain Boling at once pointed it out, and selected it as a landmark. He designated it as a rallying point for his men, if scattered in pursuit, and said that we should probably camp near it for the night.

While the Captain was studying the nature of the ground before us, and making his arrangements to capture the village, our scouts were discovered in full chase of an Indian picket, who was running towards the village as if his life depended upon his efforts. In the excitement of the moment Captain Boling ordered us to double-quick and charge, thinking, as he afterwards said, that the huts could not be much more than half a mile away. Such a mistake could only originate in the transparent air of the mountains. The village was fully two miles or more away. We did, however, double-quick, and I kept a gait that soon carried Ten-ie-ya and Sandino, with myself, ahead of our scattering column. Finding the rope with which I held Ten-ie-ya an encumbrance in our rapid march, I wound it round his shoulder and kept him in front of me. While passing a steep slope of overlapping granite rock, the old chief made a sudden spring to the right, and attempted to escape down the ragged precipice. His age was against him, for I caught him just as he was about to let himself drop from the projecting ledge to the ground below; his feet were already over the brink.

I felt somewhat angered at the trick of the old fellow in attempting to relieve himself from my custody, and the delay it had occasioned me; for we had taken the most direct although not the smoothest course. I resumed our advance at a gait that hurried the old sachem forward, perhaps less carefully and more rapidly than comported with the dignity of his years and rank. I was amused at the proposition of one of the “boys” who had witnessed the transaction, to “shoot the old devil, and not be bothered with him any more.” I of course declined this humane proposition to relieve me of further care, and at once became the chief’s most devoted defender, which observing, he afterwards told Captain Boling that I was “very good.” As we reached the more gently descending ground near the bottom of the slope, an Indian came running up the trail below us that led to the Rancheria. His course was at an acute angle to the one pursued by us toward the village, which was now but a few rods off. I ordered Sandino to cut him off and capture him before he should reach the camp. This was accomplished with great energy and a good degree of pride.

The Yosemites had already discovered our approach, but too late for any concerted resistance or for successful escape, for Lt. Crawford at the head of a portion of the command, dashed at once into the center of the encampment, and the terror-stricken Indians immediately threw up their bare hands in token of submission, and piteously cried out “pace! pace!” (peace, peace). As I halted to disarm the scout captured by Sandino, I was near enough to the camp to hear the expressions of submission. I was compelled to laugh at the absurd performances of Sandino, who to terrify his prisoner, was persistently holding in his face an old double-barreled pistol. I was aware the weapon was a harmless one, for one hammer was gone, and the other couldnot be made to explode a cap. I took the bow and arrows from the frightened savage, and as Captain Boling came up I reported the capture, telling him at the same time of the surrender of the village or Rancheria to Lt. Crawford. Seeing some of the Indians leaving the camp, and running down the lake to a trail crossing its outlet, the Captain and the men with him sprang forward through the grove of pines near the crossing, and drove them back. No show of resistance was offered, neither did any escape from us.

While Captain Boling was counting his prisoners and corralling them with a guard, I, by his previous order, restrained Ten-ie-ya from any communication with his people. The chief of this village was a young man of perhaps thirty years of age. When called upon by the Captain to state how many were under his command, he answered that those in the encampment were all that was left; the rest had scattered and returned to the tribes they sprung from. Ten-ie-ya seemed very anxious to answer the interrogations made to the young chief, but Captain Boling would not allow his farther interference, and jokingly told me to send him over among the women who were grouped a little aside, as he was now about as harmless. I acted upon the suggestion, and upon his being told that he had the liberty of the camp if he made no further attempts to escape, the old fellow stepped off briskly to meet his four squaws, who were with this band, and who seemed as pleased as himself at their re-union.

Captain Boling felt satisfied that the answer given by this half-starved chief, and the few braves of his wretched looking band, were as truthful as their condition would corroborate. Finding themselves so completely surprised, notwithstanding their extreme vigilance, and comparing the well kept appearance of their old chief with their own worn out, dilapidated condition, they with apparent anxiety expresseda willingness for the future to live in peace with the Americans. All hopes of avoiding a treaty, or of preventing their removal to the Reservation, appeared to have at once been abandoned; for when the young chief was asked if he and his band were willing to go to the Fresno, he replied with much emotion of gesture, and as rendered by Sandino to Spencer and myself: “Not only willing, but anxious;” for, said he: “Where can we now go that the Americans will not follow us?” As he said this, he stretched his arms out toward the East, and added: “Where can we make our homes, that you will not find us?” He then went on and stated that they had fled to the mountains without food or clothing; that they were worn out from watching our scouts, and buildingsignal-firesto tire us out also.

They had been anxious to embroil us in trouble by drawing us into the cañons of the Tuolumne, where were some Pai-utes wintering in a valley like Ah-wah-ne. They had hoped to be secure in this retreat until the snow melted, so that they could go to the Mono tribe and make a home with them, but that now he was told the Americans would follow them even there, he was willing, with all his little band, to go to the plains with us. After the young chief had been allowed full liberty of speech, and had sat down, Ten-ie-ya again came forward, and would have doubtless made aconfession of faith, but his speech was cut short by an order from Captain Boling to at once move camp to a beautiful pine grove on the north side of the outlet to the lake, which he had selected for our camping-place for the night. By this order he was able to have everything in readiness for an early start the next morning. There was an abundance of dry pine, convenient for our camp fires, and as the night was exceedingly cold, the glowing fires were a necessity to our comfort. The Indians were told to pack such movables as they desired to take with them, and move down at once to our camp-ground.

The scene was a busy one. The squaws and children exhibited their delight in the prospect of a change to a more genial locality, and where food would be plenty. While watching the preparations of the squaws for the transfer of their household treasures and scanty stores, my attention was directed to a dark object that appeared to be crawling up the base of the first granite peak above their camp. The polished surface of the gleaming rock made the object appear larger than the reality. We were unable to determine what kind of an animal it could be; but one of our scouts, to whom the name of “Big Drunk” had been given, pronounced it a papoose, although some had variously called it a bear, a fisher or a coon. “Big Drunk” started after it, and soon returned with a bright, active boy, entirely naked, which he coaxed from his slippery perch. Finding himself an object of curiosity his fright subsided, and he drew from its hiding-place, in the bushes near by, a garment that somewhat in shape, at least, resembled a man’s shirt. “The Glistening Rocks” had rendered us all oblivious to the color, and that was left undetermined. This garment swept the ground after he had clothed himself with it. His ludicrous appearance excited our laughter, and as if pleased with the attentions paid to him, the little fellow joined heartily in the merriment he occasioned. It will not be out of place to here relate the sequel of this boy’s history. Learning that he was an orphan and without relatives, Captain Boling adopted him, calling him “Reube,” in honor of Lt. Reuben Chandler, who after Captain Boling was the most popular man in the battalion.

Some three or four years afterward, the boy, as if to illustrate the folly of the Captain in trying to civilize and educate him, ran away from his patron, taking with him two valuable, thorough-bred Tennessee horses, much prized by the Captain; besides money, clothing and arms belongingto the Captain’s brother-in-law, Col. Lane, of Stockton, in whose charge Captain Boling had placed him, that he might have the advantages of a good school. After collecting together all the Indians found in this encampment; the total number was found to be but thirty-five, nearly all of whom were in some way a part of the family of the old patriarch, Ten-ie-ya. These were escorted to our camp, the men placed under guard, but the women and children were left free.

This was accomplished before sun down, and being relieved of duty, a few of us ran across the outlet of the lake, and climbing the divide on the south side of the lake, beheld a sunset view that will long be remembered. It was dark when we reached camp, and after a scanty repast, we spread our blankets, and soon were wrapped in slumber sweet.

We were awakened by the cold, which became more uncomfortable as night advanced, and finding it impossible to again compose ourselves to sleep, Captain Boling aroused the camp, and preparations were made by the light of the blazing camp-fires for an early start for the valley. Desiring some clean, fresh water, I went to the lake as the nearest point to obtain it, when, to my surprise, I found that the new ice formed during the night and connecting the old ice with the shore of the lake, was strong enough to bear me up. At a point where the old ice had drifted near, I went out some distance upon it, and it appeared strong enough to have borne up a horse. This was about the 5th of June, 1851. The change of temperature from summer in the valley to winter on the mountains, without shelter, was felt by us all. After a hasty breakfast, the word was passed to assemble, and we were soon all ready for the order to march. All at once there was turmoil and strife in camp, and what sounded to my ears very much like a Chinese concert. CaptainBoling was always a man of gallantry, and in this instance would not allow the squaws to take the burden of the baggage. Hence the confusion and delay. He ordered the Indians to carry the packs—burdens they had imposed on their women. This order brought down upon him the vituperations of the squaws and sullen murmurs from the “noble red men;” as often happens in domestic interference,the family was offended. Ten-ie-ya rose to explain, and waxed eloquent in his protest against this innovation on their ancient customs.

As soon as the Captain was made aware of the old fellow’s object in having “a talk,” he cut short the debate by ordering one of the lieutenants to see that every Indian, as well as squaw, was properly loaded with a just proportion of their burdens. The real object of the Captain was to facilitate the return to the valley, by making it easy for the squaws and children to accompany us through without delays. One amusing feature in this arrangement was, that long after the men had been silenced, their squaws continued to murmur at the indignity practiced on their disgraced lords. I have my doubts, even to this day, whether the standard of women’s rights was ever againwavedamong the mountain tribes after this “special order” was issued by our good-hearted Captain.

In order to take the most direct route to the valley, Captain Boling selected one of the young Yosemite Indians to lead the way with our regular guide. Being relieved of the charge of Ten-ie-ya, I took my usual place on the march with the guide. This position was preferred by me, because it afforded ample opportunity for observation and time for reflection; and beside, it was in my nature to be in advance. The trail followed, after leaving the lake, led us over bare granite slopes and hidden paths, but the distance was materially shortened. A short distance below the bottom landof the lake, on the north side of the cañon and at the head of the gorge, the smooth, sloping granite projects like a vast roof over the abyss below. As we approached this, our young guide pointed toward it.

By close observation I was able to discover that the trail led up its sloping surface, and was assured by the guide that the trail was a good one. I felt doubtful of the Captain’s willingness to scale that rocky slope, and halted for him to come up. The Captain followed the trail to its termination in the soil, and saw the cause of my having halted. Upon the discoloration of the rock being pointed out as the continuation of the trail, he glanced up the granite slope and said, “Go on, but be watchful, for a slide into the gorge would bring as certain death as a slide from that San Joaquin trail, which I have not yet forgotten.” Some of the command did not fancy this any more than they did the Ten-ie-ya trail down “Indian Cañon.” We all pulled off our hoots and went up this slope bare-footed. Seeing there was no real danger, the most timid soon moved up as fearless as the others. I, with the advance, soon reached the soil above, and at the top halted until the Indians and our straggling column closed up. As I looked about me, I discovered, unfolding to my sight, one of the most charming views in this sublimest scenery of nature. During the day before, we had looked with astonishment on the almost boundless peaks, and snow-capped mountains, to be seen from the Mt. Hoffman divide. But here some of the same views appeared illuminated. In our ascent up the mountain, we had apparently met the rising sun. The scene was one long to be remembered for its brilliancy, although not describable.

Mr. Addison, in theSpectator, says: “Our imagination loves to be filled with an object, or to grasp at anything that is too big for its capacity. We are flung into a pleasingastonishment at such unbounded views, and feel a delightful stillness and amazement in the soul.” Mr. Addison has here expressed the feelings entertained by some of us, as the view met our gaze while looking out to the east, the south and the west. Although not sufficiently elevated to command a general outlook, the higher ridges framing some of the scenery to the north and eastward of us, the westerly view was boundless. The transparency of the atmosphere was here extreme, and as the sun illumined the snow-clad and ice-burnished peaks, the scene aroused the enthusiasm of the command to a shout of glad surprise.

The recollections of the discomforts of the night were banished by the glory of the morning as here displayed. Even the beauties of the Yosemite, of which I was so ardent an admirer, were for the moment eclipsed by this gorgeously grand and changing scene. The aurora that had preceded the rising sun was as many-hued, and if possible more glorious, than the most vivid borealis of the northern climes. But when the sun appeared, seemingly like a sudden flash, amidst the distant peaks, the climax was complete. My opportunities for examining the mountain scenery of the Sierra Nevada above the immediate vicinity of the Yosemite, were such as to only enable me to give a somewhat general description, but the views that I had during our explorations afforded me glimpses of the possibilities of sublime mountain scenery, such as I had never before comprehended, although familiar with the views afforded from some of the peaks of Mexico and of the Rocky Mountains. I doubt even if the Yellow Stone, supreme in some of its attractions, affords such varied and majestic beauty.

Looking back to the lovely little lake, where we had been encamped during the night, and watching Ten-ie-ya as he ascended to our group, I suggested to the Captain that we name the lake after the old chief, and call it “Lake Ten-ie-ya.”The Captain had fully recovered from his annoyance at the scene in camp, and readily consented to the name, but added that I had evidently mistaken my vocation.

Back to Index Next