FOOTNOTES:[68]Chapter i of volume ii of the original edition.—Ed.[69]It is said that Major Long first chose the site of Van Buren for the fort afterwards erected at Bellepoint, five miles higher up the river, and known as Fort Smith—see our volume xiii, p. 197, note 166. The site was not occupied until after the removal of the Cherokee in 1828; the next year it was made a post-office, and in 1838 the seat for Crawford County, Arkansas. For two decades Van Buren was a prosperous frontier town, the home of a large Indian trade. Since the War of Secession it has not regained its prestige.—Ed.[70]The caravan crossed the Arkansas, between the embouchment of the Illinois and Canadian rivers, in what is now the Cherokee Nation, Indian Territory.—Ed.[71]The North Fork of the Canadian unites with the main stream on the boundary between the Creek and Cherokee nations. The Creek town of Eufaula is near the site mentioned by Gregg.—Ed.[72]James Kirker, known to the Mexicans as Santiago Querque, was an American who led an adventurous life upon the plains. Like several others he embarked in Apache warfare for the government of Chihuahua; and was accused, probably unjustly, of cheating in the delivery of scalps. He retired in bad humor to his hacienda in Sonora; later removing to California, where he died about 1853. See Kendall,Texan Santa Fé Expedition, ii, pp. 57-59.—Ed.[73]Matthew Arbuckle was the son of a Virginia pioneer of the same name, who participated in the Battle of Point Pleasant in 1774. The son was born in 1776, and entered the regular army at the age of twenty-three, passing through all of the grades until in 1830 he was, for meritorious services, breveted brigadier-general. He died at Fort Smith June 11, 1851.Fort Gibson was erected in 1824 on the left bank of Neosho River, near its mouth. The western boundary of Arkansas was in 1825 removed forty miles to the west, so that this military post fell within its border. Later (1830), the boundary was again replaced at the original limits, whereupon Fort Gibson fell into Cherokee territory. Several unavailing efforts were made (1834-38) to have the garrison removed to Fort Smith; and after numerous protests by the Cherokee against its maintenance within their borders, Fort Gibson was finally abandoned in 1857.—Ed.[74]For the description of the belt of woodland known as Cross Timbers, seepost, p. 253.—Ed.[75]Lieutenant James Monroe Bowman entered the West Point military academy from Pennsylvania, was made lieutenant in the mounted rangers in 1832, and transferred to the dragoons in 1833. For his death (July 21, 1839), seepost.—Ed.[76]Camp Holmes was at the site later occupied by Fort Holmes, in the Creek Nation, near its western boundary. In 1849 there was no habitation at this place; seeSenate Doc., 31 Cong., 1 sess., 12.Richard Barnes Mason was born in Fairfax County, Virginia, in 1797; at the age of twenty he entered the army as lieutenant, two years later (1819) became captain, and in 1833 major of the 1st dragoons. He was lieutenant-colonel in 1836, colonel in 1846, and brigadier-general two years later, dying at St. Louis in 1850. He served in the Black Hawk War, and was first military and civil governor of California.For the Comanche, see our volume xvi, p. 233, note 109. For the Wichita, also called Pawnee Picts,ibid., p. 95, note 55.The treaty here alluded to was signed at Camp Holmes, August 24, 1835. If Colonel Mason was present it was in a subordinate capacity, as General Arbuckle and Montford Stokes were the federal commissioners. The treaty was one of peace and friendship between the Comanche, Wichita, and associated bands on the one part, and the tribes recently removed to the vicinity—Cherokee, Creek, Choctaw, etc.—on the other, the government commissioners acting as mediators.—Ed.[77]Auguste Pierre Chouteau, eldest son of the senior Pierre (for whom see our volume xvi, p. 275, note 127) and brother of Pierre (cadet), so well known in connection with the Missouri Fur Company, was born at St. Louis in 1786. After being educated at West Point, he entered the army, where he was ensign of the 1st infantry. In 1809, he resigned, married his cousin Sophie Labadie, and embarked in the fur trade, in which he had charge of the Arkansas branch of the business until his death at Fort Gibson.—Ed.[78]Most of the prairie Indians seem to have learned this Spanish word, by which, when talking with the whites, all their chiefs are designated.—Gregg.[79]Some of these (principally Kiawas, as I afterwards learned), reached Fort Gibson, and received a handsome reward of government presents for their visit.—Gregg.[80]For this stream, see our volume xvi, p. 138, note 66.—Ed.[81]In Oklahoma, probably not far from the present town of that name.—Ed.[82]See our volume xix, p. 176, note 13 (Gregg).—Ed.
[68]Chapter i of volume ii of the original edition.—Ed.
[68]Chapter i of volume ii of the original edition.—Ed.
[69]It is said that Major Long first chose the site of Van Buren for the fort afterwards erected at Bellepoint, five miles higher up the river, and known as Fort Smith—see our volume xiii, p. 197, note 166. The site was not occupied until after the removal of the Cherokee in 1828; the next year it was made a post-office, and in 1838 the seat for Crawford County, Arkansas. For two decades Van Buren was a prosperous frontier town, the home of a large Indian trade. Since the War of Secession it has not regained its prestige.—Ed.
[69]It is said that Major Long first chose the site of Van Buren for the fort afterwards erected at Bellepoint, five miles higher up the river, and known as Fort Smith—see our volume xiii, p. 197, note 166. The site was not occupied until after the removal of the Cherokee in 1828; the next year it was made a post-office, and in 1838 the seat for Crawford County, Arkansas. For two decades Van Buren was a prosperous frontier town, the home of a large Indian trade. Since the War of Secession it has not regained its prestige.—Ed.
[70]The caravan crossed the Arkansas, between the embouchment of the Illinois and Canadian rivers, in what is now the Cherokee Nation, Indian Territory.—Ed.
[70]The caravan crossed the Arkansas, between the embouchment of the Illinois and Canadian rivers, in what is now the Cherokee Nation, Indian Territory.—Ed.
[71]The North Fork of the Canadian unites with the main stream on the boundary between the Creek and Cherokee nations. The Creek town of Eufaula is near the site mentioned by Gregg.—Ed.
[71]The North Fork of the Canadian unites with the main stream on the boundary between the Creek and Cherokee nations. The Creek town of Eufaula is near the site mentioned by Gregg.—Ed.
[72]James Kirker, known to the Mexicans as Santiago Querque, was an American who led an adventurous life upon the plains. Like several others he embarked in Apache warfare for the government of Chihuahua; and was accused, probably unjustly, of cheating in the delivery of scalps. He retired in bad humor to his hacienda in Sonora; later removing to California, where he died about 1853. See Kendall,Texan Santa Fé Expedition, ii, pp. 57-59.—Ed.
[72]James Kirker, known to the Mexicans as Santiago Querque, was an American who led an adventurous life upon the plains. Like several others he embarked in Apache warfare for the government of Chihuahua; and was accused, probably unjustly, of cheating in the delivery of scalps. He retired in bad humor to his hacienda in Sonora; later removing to California, where he died about 1853. See Kendall,Texan Santa Fé Expedition, ii, pp. 57-59.—Ed.
[73]Matthew Arbuckle was the son of a Virginia pioneer of the same name, who participated in the Battle of Point Pleasant in 1774. The son was born in 1776, and entered the regular army at the age of twenty-three, passing through all of the grades until in 1830 he was, for meritorious services, breveted brigadier-general. He died at Fort Smith June 11, 1851.Fort Gibson was erected in 1824 on the left bank of Neosho River, near its mouth. The western boundary of Arkansas was in 1825 removed forty miles to the west, so that this military post fell within its border. Later (1830), the boundary was again replaced at the original limits, whereupon Fort Gibson fell into Cherokee territory. Several unavailing efforts were made (1834-38) to have the garrison removed to Fort Smith; and after numerous protests by the Cherokee against its maintenance within their borders, Fort Gibson was finally abandoned in 1857.—Ed.
[73]Matthew Arbuckle was the son of a Virginia pioneer of the same name, who participated in the Battle of Point Pleasant in 1774. The son was born in 1776, and entered the regular army at the age of twenty-three, passing through all of the grades until in 1830 he was, for meritorious services, breveted brigadier-general. He died at Fort Smith June 11, 1851.
Fort Gibson was erected in 1824 on the left bank of Neosho River, near its mouth. The western boundary of Arkansas was in 1825 removed forty miles to the west, so that this military post fell within its border. Later (1830), the boundary was again replaced at the original limits, whereupon Fort Gibson fell into Cherokee territory. Several unavailing efforts were made (1834-38) to have the garrison removed to Fort Smith; and after numerous protests by the Cherokee against its maintenance within their borders, Fort Gibson was finally abandoned in 1857.—Ed.
[74]For the description of the belt of woodland known as Cross Timbers, seepost, p. 253.—Ed.
[74]For the description of the belt of woodland known as Cross Timbers, seepost, p. 253.—Ed.
[75]Lieutenant James Monroe Bowman entered the West Point military academy from Pennsylvania, was made lieutenant in the mounted rangers in 1832, and transferred to the dragoons in 1833. For his death (July 21, 1839), seepost.—Ed.
[75]Lieutenant James Monroe Bowman entered the West Point military academy from Pennsylvania, was made lieutenant in the mounted rangers in 1832, and transferred to the dragoons in 1833. For his death (July 21, 1839), seepost.—Ed.
[76]Camp Holmes was at the site later occupied by Fort Holmes, in the Creek Nation, near its western boundary. In 1849 there was no habitation at this place; seeSenate Doc., 31 Cong., 1 sess., 12.Richard Barnes Mason was born in Fairfax County, Virginia, in 1797; at the age of twenty he entered the army as lieutenant, two years later (1819) became captain, and in 1833 major of the 1st dragoons. He was lieutenant-colonel in 1836, colonel in 1846, and brigadier-general two years later, dying at St. Louis in 1850. He served in the Black Hawk War, and was first military and civil governor of California.For the Comanche, see our volume xvi, p. 233, note 109. For the Wichita, also called Pawnee Picts,ibid., p. 95, note 55.The treaty here alluded to was signed at Camp Holmes, August 24, 1835. If Colonel Mason was present it was in a subordinate capacity, as General Arbuckle and Montford Stokes were the federal commissioners. The treaty was one of peace and friendship between the Comanche, Wichita, and associated bands on the one part, and the tribes recently removed to the vicinity—Cherokee, Creek, Choctaw, etc.—on the other, the government commissioners acting as mediators.—Ed.
[76]Camp Holmes was at the site later occupied by Fort Holmes, in the Creek Nation, near its western boundary. In 1849 there was no habitation at this place; seeSenate Doc., 31 Cong., 1 sess., 12.
Richard Barnes Mason was born in Fairfax County, Virginia, in 1797; at the age of twenty he entered the army as lieutenant, two years later (1819) became captain, and in 1833 major of the 1st dragoons. He was lieutenant-colonel in 1836, colonel in 1846, and brigadier-general two years later, dying at St. Louis in 1850. He served in the Black Hawk War, and was first military and civil governor of California.
For the Comanche, see our volume xvi, p. 233, note 109. For the Wichita, also called Pawnee Picts,ibid., p. 95, note 55.
The treaty here alluded to was signed at Camp Holmes, August 24, 1835. If Colonel Mason was present it was in a subordinate capacity, as General Arbuckle and Montford Stokes were the federal commissioners. The treaty was one of peace and friendship between the Comanche, Wichita, and associated bands on the one part, and the tribes recently removed to the vicinity—Cherokee, Creek, Choctaw, etc.—on the other, the government commissioners acting as mediators.—Ed.
[77]Auguste Pierre Chouteau, eldest son of the senior Pierre (for whom see our volume xvi, p. 275, note 127) and brother of Pierre (cadet), so well known in connection with the Missouri Fur Company, was born at St. Louis in 1786. After being educated at West Point, he entered the army, where he was ensign of the 1st infantry. In 1809, he resigned, married his cousin Sophie Labadie, and embarked in the fur trade, in which he had charge of the Arkansas branch of the business until his death at Fort Gibson.—Ed.
[77]Auguste Pierre Chouteau, eldest son of the senior Pierre (for whom see our volume xvi, p. 275, note 127) and brother of Pierre (cadet), so well known in connection with the Missouri Fur Company, was born at St. Louis in 1786. After being educated at West Point, he entered the army, where he was ensign of the 1st infantry. In 1809, he resigned, married his cousin Sophie Labadie, and embarked in the fur trade, in which he had charge of the Arkansas branch of the business until his death at Fort Gibson.—Ed.
[78]Most of the prairie Indians seem to have learned this Spanish word, by which, when talking with the whites, all their chiefs are designated.—Gregg.
[78]Most of the prairie Indians seem to have learned this Spanish word, by which, when talking with the whites, all their chiefs are designated.—Gregg.
[79]Some of these (principally Kiawas, as I afterwards learned), reached Fort Gibson, and received a handsome reward of government presents for their visit.—Gregg.
[79]Some of these (principally Kiawas, as I afterwards learned), reached Fort Gibson, and received a handsome reward of government presents for their visit.—Gregg.
[80]For this stream, see our volume xvi, p. 138, note 66.—Ed.
[80]For this stream, see our volume xvi, p. 138, note 66.—Ed.
[81]In Oklahoma, probably not far from the present town of that name.—Ed.
[81]In Oklahoma, probably not far from the present town of that name.—Ed.
[82]See our volume xix, p. 176, note 13 (Gregg).—Ed.
[82]See our volume xix, p. 176, note 13 (Gregg).—Ed.
Travelling out of our Latitude — The Buffalo-gnat — A Kiawa and Squaw — Indiancrim. con.Affair — Extraordinary Mark of Confidence in the White Man — A Conflagration — An Espy Shower — Region of Gypsum — Our Latitude — A Lilliputian Forest — A Party of Comanches — A Visit to a 'Dog Town' — Indian Archery — Arrival of Comanche Warriors — A 'Big Talk,' and its Results — Speech of theCapitan Mayor— Project of bringing Comanche Chiefs to Washington — Return of Lieut. Bowman, and our March resumed — Melancholy Reflections — Another Indian Visit — Mexican Captives — Voluntary Captivity — A sprightly Mexican Lad — Purchase of a Captive — Comanche Trade and Etiquette — Indians least dangerous to such as trade with them.toc
As it now appeared that we had been forced at least two points north of the course we had originally intended to steer, by the northern bearing of the Canadian, we made an effort to cross a ridge of timber to the south, which, after considerable labor, proved successful. Here we found a[p115]multitude of gravelly, bright-flowing streams, with rich bottoms, lined all along with stately white oak, black-walnut, mulberry, and other similar growths, that yielded us excellent materials for wagon repairs, of which the route from Missouri, after passing Council Grove, is absolutely in want.
{28} Although we found the buffalo extremely scarce westward of Spring Valley, yet there was no lack of game; for every nook and glade swarmed with deer and wild turkeys, partridges and grouse. We had also occasion to become acquainted with another species of prairie-tenant whose visits generally produced impressions that were anything but agreeable. I allude to a small black insect generally known to prairie travellers as the 'buffalo-gnat.' It not only attacks the face and hands, but even contrives to insinuate itself under the clothing, upon the breast and arms, and other covered parts. Here it fastens itself and luxuriates, until completely satisfied. Its bite is so poisonous as to give the face, neck, and hands, or any other part of the person upon which its affectionate caresses have been bestowed, the appearance of a pustulated varioloid. The buffalo-gnat is in fact a much more annoying insect than the mosquito, and also much more frequently met with on the prairie streams.
We now continued our line of march between the Canadian and the timbered ridge with very little difficulty. Having stopped to 'noon' in a bordering valley, we were quite surprised by the appearance of an Indian with no other protection than his squaw. From what we could gather by their signs, they had been the victims of a 'love scrape.' The fellow, whom I found to be a Kiawa, had, according to his own account, stolen the wife of another, and then fled to the thickets, {29} where he purposed to lead a lonely life, in hopes of escaping the vengeance of his incensed predecessor. From this, it would appear that affairs of gallantry are not[p116]evils exclusively confined to civilization. Plausible, however, as the Indian's story seemed to be, we had strong suspicions that others of his band were not far off; and that he, with his 'better half,' had only been skulking about in hopes of exercising their 'acquisitiveness' at our expense; when, on finding themselves discovered, they deemed it the best policy fearlessly to approach us. This singular visit afforded a specimen of that confidence with which civilization inspires even the most untutored savages. They remained with us, in the utmost nonchalance, till the following morning.
Shortly after the arrival of the visitors, we were terribly alarmed at a sudden prairie conflagration. The old grass of the valley in which we were encamped had not been burned off, and one of our cooks having unwittingly kindled a fire in the midst of it, it spread at once with wonderful rapidity; and a brisk wind springing up at the time, the flames were carried over the valley, in spite of every effort we could make to check them. Fortunately for us, the fire had broken out to the leeward of our wagons, and therefore occasioned us no damage; but the accident itself was a forcible illustration of the danger that might be incurred by pitching a camp in the midst of dry grass, and the advantages {30} that might be taken by hostile savages in such a locality.
After the fire had raged with great violence for a few hours, a cloud suddenly obscured the horizon, which was almost immediately followed by a refreshing shower of rain: a phenomenon often witnessed upon the Prairies after an extensive conflagration; and affording a practical exemplification of Professor Espy's celebrated theory of artificial showers.[83][p117]
We now continued our journey without further trouble, except that of being still forced out of our proper latitude by the northern bearing of the Canadian. On the 30th of May, however, we succeeded in 'doubling' the spur of the Great North Bend.[84]Upon ascending the dividing ridge again, which at this point was entirely destitute of timber, a 'prairie expanse' once more greeted our view. This and the following day, our route lay through a region that abounded in gypsum, from the finest quality down to ordinary plaster. On the night of the 31st we encamped on a tributary of the North Fork, which we called Gypsum creek, in consequence of its being surrounded with vast quantities of that substance.[85]
Being compelled to keep a reckoning of our latitude, by which our travel was partly governed, and the sun being now too high at noon for the use of the artificial horizon, we had to be guided entirely by observations of the meridian altitude of the moon, planets, or {31} fixed stars. At Gypsum creek our latitude was36° 10′—being the utmost northing we had made. As we were now about thirty miles north of the parallel of Santa Fé, we had to steer, henceforth, a few degrees south of west in order to bring up on our direct course.
The following night we encamped in a region covered with sandy hillocks, where there was not a drop of water to be found: in fact, an immense sand-plain was now opening before us, somewhat variegated in appearance,[p118]being entirely barren of vegetation in some places, while others were completely covered with an extraordinarily diminutive growth which has been calledshin-oak, and a curious plum-bush of equally dwarfish stature. These singular-looking plants (undistinguishable at a distance from the grass of the prairies) were heavily laden with acorns and plums, which, when ripe, are of considerable size although the trunks of either were seldom thicker than oat-straws, and frequently not a foot high. We also met with the same in many other places on the Prairies.
Still the most indispensable requisite, water, was nowhere to be found, and symptoms of alarm were beginning to spread far and wide among us. When we had last seen the Canadian and the North Fork, they appeared to separate in their course almost at right angles, therefore it was impossible to tell at what distance we were from either. At last {32} my brother and myself, who had been scouring the plains during the morning without success, finally perceived a deep hollow leading in the direction of the Canadian, where we found a fine pool of water, and our wagons 'made port' again before mid-day; thus quieting all alarm.
Although we had encountered but very few buffalo since we left Spring Valley, they now began to make their appearance again, though not in very large droves; together with the deer and the fleet antelope, which latter struck me as being much more tame in this wild section of the Prairies than I had seen it elsewhere. The graceful and majestic mustang would also now and then sweep across the naked country, or come curvetting and capering in the vicinity of our little caravan, just as the humor prompted him. But what attracted our attention most were the little dog settlements, or, as they are more technically called, 'dog towns,' so often alluded to by prairie travellers. As we were passing through their 'streets,' multitudes of the diminutive inhabitants[p119]were to be seen among the numerous little hillocks which marked their dwellings, where they frisked about, or sat perched at their doors, yelping defiance, to our great amusement—heedless of the danger that often awaited them from the rifles of our party; for they had perhaps never seen such deadly weapons before.
On the 5th of June, we found ourselves once more travelling on a firm rolling prairie, {33} about the region, as we supposed,[86]of the boundary between the United States and Mexico; when Lieut. Bowman, in pursuance of his instructions, began to talk seriously of returning. While the wagons were stopped at noon, a small party of us, including a few dragoons, advanced some miles ahead to take a survey of the route. We had just ascended the highest point of a ridge to get a prospect of the country beyond, when we descried a herd of buffalo in motion and two or three horsemen in hot pursuit. "Mexican Ciboleros!" we all exclaimed at once; for we supposed we might now be within the range of the buffalo hunters of New Mexico. Clapping spurs to our horses, we set off towards them at full speed. As we might have expected, our precipitate approach frightened them away and we soon lost sight of them altogether. On reaching the spot where they had last been seen, we found a horse and two mules saddled, all tied to the carcass of a slain buffalo which was partly skinned. We made diligent search in some copses of small growth, and among the adjacent ravines, but could discover no further traces of the fugitives. The Indian rigging of the animals, however, satisfied us that they were not Mexicans.
We were just about giving up the pursuit, when a solitary Indian horseman was espied upon a ridge about a mile from[p120]us. My {34} brother and myself set out towards him, but on seeing us approach, he began to manifest some fear, and therefore my brother advanced alone. As soon as he was near enough he cried out "Amigo!" to which the Indian replied "Comantz!" and giving himself a thump upon the breast, he made a graceful circuit, and came up at full speed, presenting his hand in token of friendship. Nothing, however, could induce him to return to his animals with us, where the rest of our party had remained. He evidently feared treachery and foul play. Therefore we retraced our steps to the wagons, leaving the Indian's property just as we had found it, which, we subsequently discovered, was taken away after our departure.
In the afternoon of the same day, five more Indians (including a squaw), made their appearance, and having been induced by friendly tokens to approach us, they spent the night at our encampment. The next morning, we expressed a desire, by signs, to be conducted to the nearest point on our route where good pasturage and water might be found. A sprightly young chief, armed only with his bow and arrows, at once undertook the task, while his comrades still travelled along in our company. We had not progressed far before we found ourselves in the very midst of another large 'dog-town.'
The task of describing the social and domestic habits of these eccentric little brutes, has been so graphically and amusingly executed {35} by the racy and popular pen of G. Wilkins Kendall, that any attempt by me would be idle; and I feel that the most agreeable service I can do my readers is to borrow a paragraph from his alluring "Narrative," describing a scene presented by one of these prairie commonwealths.[87][p121]
"In their habits they are clannish, social, and extremely convivial, never living alone like other animals, but, on the contrary, always found in villages or large settlements. They are a wild, frolicsome, madcap set of fellows when undisturbed, uneasy and ever on the move, and appear to take especial delight in chattering away the time, and visiting from hole to hole to gossip and talk over each other's affairs—at least so their actions would indicate.... On several occasions I crept close to their villages, without being observed, to watch their movements. Directly in the centre of one of them I particularly noticed a very large dog, sitting in front of the door or entrance to his burrow, and by his own actions and those of his neighbors it really seemed as though he was the president, mayor, or chief—at all events, he was the 'big dog' of the place. For at least an hour I secretly watched the operations in this community. During that time the large dog I have mentioned received at least a dozen visits from his fellow-dogs, which would stop and chat with him a few moments, and then run off to their domiciles. All this while he never left his post for a moment, and I thought I could discover a gravity in his deportment {36} not discernible in those by which he was surrounded. Far is it from me to say that the visits he received were upon business, or had anything to do with the local government of the village; but it certainly appeared so. If any animal has a system of laws regulating the body politic, it is certainly the prairie dog."
As we sat on our horses, looking at these 'village transactions,' our Comanche guide drew an arrow for the purpose of cutting short the career of a little citizen that sat yelping most doggedly in the mouth of his hole, forty or fifty paces distant. The animal was almost entirely concealed behind the hillock which encompassed the entrance of his apartment, so that the dart could not reach it in a[p122]direct line; but the Indian had resort to a manœuvre which caused the arrow to descend with a curve, and in an instant it quivered in the body of the poor little quadruped. The slayer only smiled at his feat, while we were perfectly astounded. There is nothing strange in the rifleman's being able to hit his mark with his fine-sighted barrel; but the accuracy with which these savages learn to shoot their feathered missiles, with such random aim, is almost incomprehensible. I had at the same time drawn one of Colt's repeating pistols, with a view of paying a similar compliment to another dog; when, finding that it excited the curiosity of the chief, I fired a few shots in quick succession, as an explanation of its virtues. He seemed to {37} comprehend the secret instantly, and, drawing his bow once more, he discharged a number of arrows with the same rapidity, as a palpable intimation that he could shoot as fast with his instrument as we could with our patent fire-arms. This was not merely a vain show: there was more of reality than of romance in his demonstration.
Shortly after this we reached a fresh brook, a tributary of the North Fork, which wound its silent course in the midst of a picturesque valley, surrounded by romantic hills and craggy knobs. Here we pitched our camp: when three of our visitors left us for the purpose of going to bring all the 'capitanes' of their tribe, who were said to be encamped at no great distance from us.
Our encampment, which we designated as 'Camp Comanche,' was only five or six miles from the North Fork, while, to the southward, the main Canadian was but a little more distant.[88]
Camp ComancheIllustrations List
Camp Comanche
Illustrations List
After waiting anxiously for the arrival of the Comanche chiefs, until our patience was well nigh exhausted, I ascended[p125]a high knoll just behind our camp, in company with the younger of the two chiefs who had remained with us, to see if anything could be discovered. By and by, the Comanche pointed anxiously towards the northwest, where he espied a party of his people, though at such a great distance, that it was some time before I could discern them. With what acuteness of vision are these savages endowed! Accustomed {38} to the open plains, and like the eagle to look out for their prey at immense distances, their optical perception is scarcely excelled by that of the king of birds.
The party, having approached still nearer, assembled upon an eminence as if for the purpose of reconnoitring; but our chief upon the knoll hoisting his blanket, which seemed to say, 'come ahead,' they advanced slowly and deliberately—very unlike the customary mode of approach among all the prairie tribes.
The party consisted of about sixty warriors, at the head of whom rode an Indian of small stature and agreeable countenance, verging on the age of fifty. He wore the usual Comanche dress, but instead of moccasins, he had on a pair of long white cotton hose, while upon his bare head waved a tall red plume,—a mark of distinction which proclaimed him at once thecapitan mayor, or principal chief. We addressed them in Spanish, inquiring if they had brought an interpreter, when a lank-jawed, grum-looking savage announced his readiness to officiate in that capacity. "Sabes hablar en Español, amigo?" (can you talk Spanish, friend?) I inquired. "Si" (yes), he gruffly replied. "Where are your people?" "Encamped just above on yonder creek." "How many of you are there?" "Oh, a great many—nearly all the Comanche nation; for we areen juntato go and fight the Pawnees." "Well, can you tell us how far it is to Santa Fé?"—But the surly savage cut short my inquiries by observing—{39} "Ahí platícarémos despues"—"We will talk about that hereafter."[p126]
We then showed them a spot a few rods from us, where they might encamp so as not to intermix their animals with ours; after which all thecapitaneswere invited to our camp to hold a 'big talk.' In a very short time we had ten chiefs seated in a circle within our tent, when the pipe, the Indian token of peace, was produced: but, doubting perhaps the sincerity of our professions, they at first refused to smoke. The interpreter, however, remarked as an excuse for their conduct, that it was not their custom to smoke until they had received some presents: but a few Mexicancigarritosbeing produced, most of them took a whiff, as if under the impression that to smoke cigars was no pledge of friendship.
Lieut. Bowman now desired us to broach the subject of peace and amity betwixt the Comanches and our people, and to invite them to visit the 'Capitan Grande' at Washington, and enter into a perpetual treaty to that effect; but they would not then converse on the subject. In fact, the interpreter inquired, "Are we not at war?—how can we go to see the Capitan Grande?" We knew they held themselves at war with Mexico and Texas, and probably had mistaken us for Texans, which had no doubt caused the interpreter to speak so emphatically of their immense numbers. Upon this we explained to them that the United States was a distinct government {40} and at peace with the Comanches. As an earnest of our friendly disposition, we then produced some scarlet cloth, with a small quantity of vermilion, tobacco, beads, etc., which being distributed among them, they very soon settled down into a state of placidness and contentment. Indeed, it will be found, that, with wild Indians, presents are always the corner-stone of friendship. "We are rejoiced," at last said the elder chief with a ceremonious air, "our hearts are glad that you have arrived among us: it makes our eyes laugh to see Americans walk in our land. We will notify our old and young men—our boys[p127]and our maidens—our women and children,—that they may come to trade with you. We hope you will speak well of us to your people, that more of them may hunt the way to our country, for we like to trade with the white man." This was delivered in Comanche, but translated into Spanish by the interpreter, who, although a full Indian, had lived several years among the Mexicans and spoke that language tolerably well. Our 'big talk' lasted several hours, after which the Indians retired to sleep. The next morning, after renewing their protestations of friendship, they took their departure, the principal chief saying, "Tell the Capitan Grande that when he pleases to call us we are all ready to go to see him."
The project of bringing some of the chiefs of these wild prairie tribes to Washington city, has been entertained, but never yet carried {41} into effect. The few who have penetrated as far as Fort Gibson, or perhaps to a frontier village, have probably left with more unfavorable impressions than they had before. Believing the former to be our great Capital, and the most insignificant among the latter, our largest cities, they have naturally come to the conclusion that they surpass us in numbers and power, if not in wealth and grandeur. I have no doubt that the chiefs of the Comanches and other prairie tribes, if rightly managed, might be induced to visit our veritable 'Capitan Grande,' and our large cities, which would doubtless have a far better effect than all the treaties of peace that could be concluded with them for an age to come. They would then 'see with their own eyes and hear with their own ears' the magnificence and power of the whites, which would inspire them at once with respect and fear.
This was on the 7th of June. About noon, Lieut. Bowman and his command finally took leave of us, and at the same time we resumed our forward march. This separation was[p128]truly painful: not so much on account of the loss we were about to experience, in regard to the protection afforded us by the troops (which, to say the truth, was more needed now than it had ever been before), as for the necessity of parting with a friend, who had endeared himself to us all by his affable deportment, his social manners and accommodating disposition. Ah! little did we think then that we should never see that gallant officer more! {42} So young, so robust, and so healthy, little did we suspect that the sound of that voice which shouted so vigorously in responding to our parting salute in the desert, would never greet our ears again! But such was Fate's decree! Although he arrived safely at Fort Gibson, in a few short weeks he fell a victim to disease.
There were perhaps a few timid hearts that longed to return with the dragoons, and ever and anon a wistful glance would be cast back at the receding figures in the distance. The idea of a handful of thirty-four men having to travel without guide or protection through a dreary wilderness, peopled by thousands of savages who were just as likely to be hostile as friendly, was certainly very little calculated to produce agreeable impressions. Much to the credit of our men, however, the escort was no sooner out of sight than the timorous regained confidence, and all seemed bound together by stronger ties than before. All we feared were ambuscades or surprise; to guard against which, it was only necessary to redouble our vigilance.
On the following day, while we were enjoying our noon's rest upon a ravine of the Canadian, several parties of Indians, amounting altogether to about three hundred souls, including women and children, made their appearance. They belonged to the same band of Comanches with whom we had had so agreeable an intercourse, and had brought several mules in the expectation of driving a trade with us. The squaws and papooses {43} were so anxious to gratify their[p129]curiosity, and so very soon began to give such striking manifestations of their pilfering propensities, that, at the request of the chiefs, we carried some goods at a little distance, where a trade was opened, in hopes of attracting their attention. One woman, I observed, still lingered among the wagons, who, from certain peculiarities of features, struck me very forcibly as not being an Indian. In accordance with this impression I addressed her in Spanish, and was soon confirmed in all my suspicions. She was from the neighborhood of Matamoros, and had been married to a Comanche since her captivity. She did not entertain the least desire of returning to her own people.
Similar instances of voluntary captivity have frequently occurred. Dr. Sibley, in a communication to the War Department, in 1805, relates an affecting case, which shows how a sensitive female will often prefer remaining with her masters, rather than encounter the horrible ordeal of ill-natured remarks to which she would inevitably be exposed on being restored to civilized life.[89]The Comanches, some twenty years previous, having kidnapped the daughter of the Governor-General of Chihuahua, the latter transmitted $1000 to a trader to procure her ransom. This was soon effected, but to the astonishment of all concerned, the unfortunate girl refused to leave the Indians. She sent word to her father, that they had disfigured her by tattooing; that she was married and perhapsenceinte; {44} and that she would be more unhappy by returning to her father under these circumstances than by remaining where she was.
My attention was next attracted by a sprightly lad, ten or twelve years old, whose nationality could scarcely be detected under his Indian guise. But, though quite 'Indianized,' he was exceedingly polite. I inquired of him in Spanish,[p130]"Are you not a Mexican?" "Yes, sir,—I once was." "What is your name?" "Bernardino Saenz, sir, at your service." "When and where were you taken?" "About four years ago, at the Hacienda de las Animas, near Parral." "Shan't we buy you and take you to your people?—we are going thither." At this he hesitated a little, and then answered in an affecting tone, "No, señor; ya soy demasiado bruto para vivir entre los Cristianos" (O, no, sir; I am now too much of a brute to live among Christians); adding that his owner was not there, and that he knew the Indian in whose charge he came would not sell him.
The Hacienda de las Animas is in the department of Chihuahua, some fifteen miles from the city of Parral, a much larger place than Santa Fé. Notwithstanding this, about three hundred Comanches made a bold inroad into the very heart of the settlements—laid waste the unfortunate hacienda, killing and capturing a considerable number—and remained several days in the neighborhood, committing all sorts of outrages. This occurred in 1835. I happened to be in Chihuahua {45} at the time, and very well remember the bustle and consternation that prevailed. A thousand volunteers were raised, commanded by the governor himself, who 'hotly pursued' the enemy during their tardy retreat; but returned with the usual report—"No les pudimos alcanzar,"—we could not overtake them.
Out of half a dozen Mexican captives that happened to be with our new visitors, we only met with one who manifested the slightest inclination to abandon Indian life. This was a stupid boy about fifteen years of age, who had probably been roughly treated on account of his laziness. We very soon struck a bargain with his owner, paying about the price of a mule for the little outcast, whom I sent to his family as soon as we reached Chihuahua. Notwithstanding the[p131]inherent stupidity of myprotégé, I found him abundantly grateful—much to his credit be it spoken—for the little service I had been able to render him.
We succeeded in purchasing several mules which cost us between ten and twenty dollars worth of goods apiece. In Comanche trade the main trouble consists in fixing the price of the first animal. This being settled by the chiefs, it often happens that mule after mule is led up and the price received without further cavil. Each owner usually wants a general assortment; therefore the price must consist of several items, as a blanket, a looking-glass, an awl, a flint, a little tobacco, vermillion, beads, etc.
Our trade with the new batch of Comanches {46} being over, they now began to depart as they had come, in small parties, without bidding us adieu, or even informing us of their intention, it being the usual mode of taking leave among Indians, to departsans cérémonie, and as silently as possible.
The Santa Fé caravans have generally avoided every manner of trade with the wild Indians, for fear of being treacherously dealt with during the familiar intercourse which necessarily ensues. This I am convinced is an erroneous impression; for I have always found, that savages are much less hostile to those with whom they trade, than to any other people. They are emphatically fond of traffic, and, being anxious to encourage the whites to come among them, instead of committing depredations upon those with whom they trade, they are generally ready to defend them against every enemy.
Ponds and Buffalo Wallows — Valley of the Canadian, and romantic Freaks of Nature — Melancholy Adventure of a Party of Traders in 1832 — Fears of being lost — Arrival of a Party ofComancheros, and their wonderful Stories — Their Peculiarities and Traffic — Bitter Water, and theSalitreof New Mexico — Avant-couriers for Santa Fé — Patent Fire-arms and their Virtues — Ranchero Ideas of Distance, and their Mode of giving Directions — The Angostura, and erroneous Notions of the Texans — A new Route revealed — Solitary Travel — Supply of Provisions sent back — Arrival at Santa Fé — Gov. Armijo, etc. — A 'Flare-up' with His Excellency.toc
The Comanches having all disappeared, we resumed our march, and soon emerged into an open plain ormesawhich was one of the most monotonous I had ever seen, there being not a break, not a hill nor valley, nor even a shrub to obstruct the view. The only thing which served to turn us from a direct course pursued by the compass, was the innumerable ponds which bespeckled the plain, and which kept us at least well supplied with water. Many of these ponds seem to have grown out of 'buffalo wallows,'—a term used on the Prairies to designate a sink made by the buffalo's pawing the earth for the purpose of obtaining a smooth dusty surface to roll upon.
{48} After three or four days of weary travel over this level plain, the picturesque valley of the Canadian burst once more upon our view, presenting one of the most magnificent sights I had ever beheld. Here rose a perpendicular cliff, in all the majesty and sublimity of its desolation;—there another sprang forward as in the very act of losing its balance and about to precipitate itself upon the vale below;—a little further on, a pillar with crevices and cornices so curiously formed as easily to be mistaken for the work of art; while a thousand other objects grotesquely and fantastically arranged, and all shaded in the sky-bound perspective by the blue ridge-like brow of themesafar beyond the Canadian,[p133]constituted a kind of chaotic space where nature seemed to have indulged in her wildest caprices. Such was the confusion of ground-swells and eccentric cavities, that it was altogether impossible to determine whereabouts the channel of the Canadian wound its way among them.
It would seem that these mesas might once have extended up to the margin of the stream, leaving acañonor chasm through which the river flowed, as is still the case in some other places. But the basis of the plain not having been sufficiently firm to resist the action of the waters, these have washed and cut the borderingcejasor brows into all the shapes they now present. The buffalo and other animals have no doubt assisted in these transmutations. Their deep-worn paths over the {49} brows of the plains, form channels for the descending rains; which are soon washed into the size of ravines—and even considerable creeks. The beds of these continue to be worn down until veins of lasting water are opened, and constant-flowing streams thus established. Numerous were the embryo rivulets which might be observed forming in this way along the borders of those streams. The frequent isolated benches and mounds, whose tabular summits are on a level with the adjacent plains, and appear entirely of a similar formation, indicate that the intermediate earth has been washed away, or removed by some other process of nature—all seeming to give plausibility to our theory.
It was somewhere in this vicinity that a small party of Americans experienced a terrible calamity in the winter of 1832-3, on their way home; and as the incident had the tendency to call into play the most prominent features of the Indian character, I will digress so far here as to relate the facts.
The party consisted of twelve men, chiefly citizens of Missouri. Their baggage and about ten thousand dollars in specie were packed upon mules. They took the route of[p134]the Canadian river, fearing to venture on the northern prairies at that season of the year. Having left Santa Fé in December, they had proceeded without accident thus far, when a large body of Comanches and Kiawas were seen advancing towards them. Being well acquainted with the treacherous and pusillanimous {50} disposition of those races, the traders prepared at once for defence; but the savages having made a halt at some distance, began to approach one by one, or in small parties, making a great show of friendship all the while, until most of them had collected on the spot. Finding themselves surrounded in every direction, the travellers now began to move on, in hopes of getting rid of the intruders: but the latter were equally ready for the start; and, mounting their horses, kept jogging on in the same direction. The first act of hostility perpetrated by the Indians proved fatal to one of the American traders named Pratt, who was shot dead while attempting to secure two mules which had become separated from the rest. Upon this, the companions of the slain man immediately dismounted and commenced a fire upon the Indians, which was warmly returned, whereby another man of the name of Mitchell was killed.
By this time the traders had taken off their packs and piled them around for protection; and now falling to work with their hands, they very soon scratched out a trench deep enough to protect them from the shot of the enemy. The latter made several desperate charges, but they seemed too careful of their own personal safety, notwithstanding the enormous superiority of their numbers, to venture too near the rifles of the Americans. In a few hours all the animals of the traders were either killed or wounded, but no personal damage was done to the remaining ten men, {51} with the exception of a wound in the thigh received by one, which was not at the time considered dangerous.[p135]
During the siege, the Americans were in great danger of perishing from thirst, as the Indians had complete command of all the water within reach. Starvation was not so much to be dreaded; because, in case of necessity, they could live on the flesh of their slain animals, some of which lay stretched close around them. After being pent up for thirty-six hours in this horrible hole, during which time they had seldom ventured to raise their heads above the surface without being shot at, they resolved to make a boldsortiein the night, as any death was preferable to the fate which awaited them there. As there was not an animal left that was at all in a condition to travel, the proprietors of the money gave permission to all to take and appropriate to themselves whatever amount each man could safely undertake to carry. In this way a few hundred dollars were started with, of which, however, but little ever reached the United States. The remainder was buried deep in the sand, in hopes that it might escape the cupidity of the savages; but to very little purpose, for they were afterwards seen by some Mexican traders making a great display of specie, which was without doubt taken from this unfortunatecache.
With every prospect of being discovered, overtaken, and butchered, but resolved to sell their lives as dearly as possible, they at last {52} emerged from their hiding-place, and moved on silently and slowly until they found themselves beyond the purlieus of the Indian camps. Often did they look back in the direction where from three to five hundred savages were supposed to watch their movements, but, much to their astonishment, no one appeared to be in pursuit. The Indians, believing no doubt that the property of the traders would come into their hands, and having no amateur predilection for taking scalps at the risk of losing their own, appeared willing enough to let the spoliated adventurers depart without further molestation.[p136]
The destitute travellers having run themselves short of provisions, and being no longer able to kill game for want of materials to load their rifles with, they were very soon reduced to the necessity of sustaining life upon roots, and the tender bark of trees. After travelling for several days in this desperate condition, with lacerated feet, and utter prostration of mind and body, they began to disagree among themselves about the route to be pursued, and eventually separated into two distinct parties. Five of these unhappy men steered a westward course, and after a succession of sufferings and privations which almost surpassed belief, they reached the settlements of the Creek Indians, near the Arkansas river, where they were treated with great kindness and hospitality. The other five wandered about in the greatest state of distress and bewilderment, and only two {53} finally succeeded in getting out of the mazes of the wilderness. Among those who were abandoned to their fate, and left to perish thus miserably, was a Mr. Schenck, the same individual who had been shot in the thigh; a gentleman of talent and excellent family connections, who was a brother, as I am informed, of the Hon. Mr. Schenck, at present a member of Congress from Ohio.[90]
But let us resume our journey. We had for some days, while travelling along the course of the Canadian, been in anxious expectation of reaching a point from whence there was a cart-road to Santa Fé, made by the Ciboleros; but being constantly baffled and disappointed in this hope, serious apprehensions began to be entertained by some of[p137]the party that we might after all be utterly lost. In this emergency, one of our Mexicans who pretended to be a great deal wiser than the rest, insisted that we were pursuing a wrong direction, and that every day's march only took us further from Santa Fé. There appeared to be so much plausibility in his assertion, as he professed a perfect knowledge of all the country around, that many of our men were almost ready to mutiny,—to take the command from the hands of my brother and myself and lead us southward in search of the Colorado, into the fearfulLlano Estacado, where we would probably have perished.[91]But our observations of the latitude, which we took very frequently, as well as the course we were pursuing, completely contradicted the {54} Mexican wiseacre. A few days afterwards we were overtaken by a party ofComancheros, or Mexican Comanche traders, when we had the satisfaction of learning that we were in the right track.
These men had been trading with the band of Comanches we had lately met, and learning from them that we had passed on, they had hastened to overtake us, so as to obtain our protection against the savages, who, after selling their animals to the Mexicans, very frequently take forcible possession of them again, before the purchasers have been able to reach their homes. These parties ofComancherosare usually composed of the indigent and rude classes of the frontier villages, who collect together, several times a year, and launch upon the plains with a few trinkets and trumperies of all kinds, and perhaps a bag of bread and may-be another ofpinole, which they barter away to the savages for horses and mules. The entire stock of an individual trader very seldom exceeds the value of twenty dollars, with which he is content to wander about for several months,[p138]and glad to return home with a mule or two, as the proceeds of his traffic.
These Mexican traders had much to tell us about the Comanches: saying, that they were four or five thousand in number, with perhaps a thousand warriors, and that the fiery young men had once determined to follow and attack us; but that the chiefs and sages had deterred them, by stating that our cannons {55} could kill to the distance of many miles, and shoot through hills and rocks and destroy everything that happened to be within their range. The main object of our visitors, however, seemed to be to raise themselves into importance by exaggerating the perils we had escaped from. That they had considered themselves in great jeopardy, there could be no doubt whatever, for, in their anxiety to overtake us, they came very near killing their animals.
It was a war-party of this band of Comanches that paid the 'flying visit' to Bent's Fort on the Arkansas river, to which Mr. Farnham alludes in his trip to Oregon.[92]A band of the same Indians also fell in with the caravan from Missouri, with whom they were for a while upon the verge of hostilities.
The next day we passed the afternoon upon a ravine where we found abundance of water, but to our great surprise our animals refused to drink. Upon tasting the water, we found it exceedingly nauseous and bitter; far more[p139]repugnant to some palates than a solution of Epsom salts. It is true that the water had been a little impregnated with the same loathsome substance for several days; but we had never found it so bad before. The salinous compound which imparts this savor, is found in great abundance in the vicinity of the table-plain streams of New Mexico, and is known to the natives by the name ofsalitre.[93]We {56} had the good fortune to find in the valley, a few sinks filled by recent rains, so that actually we experienced no great inconvenience from the want of fresh water. As far as our own personal necessities were concerned, we were abundantly supplied; it being an unfailing rule with us to carry in each wagon a five-gallon keg always filled with water, in order to guard against those frightful contingencies which so frequently occur on the Prairies. In truth upon leaving one watering place, we never knew where we would find the next.
On the 20th of June we pitched our camp upon the north bank of the Canadian or Colorado, in latitude35° 24′according to a meridian altitude of Saturn. On the following day, I left the caravan, accompanied by three Comancheros, and proceeded at a more rapid pace towards Santa Fé. This was rather a hazardous journey, inasmuch as we were still within the range of the Pawnee and Comanche war-parties, and my companions were men in whom I could not repose the slightest confidence, except for piloting; being fully convinced that in case of meeting with an enemy, they would either forsake or deliver me up, just as it might seem most conducive to their own interest and safety. All I had to depend upon were my fire-arms, which could hardly fail to produce an impression in my favor; for, thanks to Mr. Colt's invention, I carried thirty-six charges ready-loaded, which I could easily fire at the rate of {57} a dozen[p140]per minute. I do not believe that any band of those timorous savages of the western prairies would venture to approach even a single man, under such circumstances. If, according to an old story of the frontier, an Indian supposed that a white man fired both with his tomahawk and scalping knife, to account for the execution done by a brace of pistols, thirty-six shots discharged in quick succession would certainly overawe them as being the effect of some great medicine.
As we jogged merrily along, I often endeavored to while away the time by catechising my three companions in relation to the topography of the wild region we were traversing; but I soon found, that, like the Indians, these ignorant rancheros have no ideas of distances, except as compared with time or with some other distance. They will tell you that you may arrive at a given place by the time the sun reaches a certain point: otherwise, whether it be but half a mile or half a day's ride to the place inquired for, they are as apt to applyestá cerquita(it is close by), orestá lejos(it is far off), to the one as to the other, just as the impression happens to strike them, when compared with some other point more or less distant. This often proves a source of great annoyance to foreign travellers, as I had an opportunity of experiencing before my arrival. In giving directions, these people—in fact, the lower classes of Mexicans generally—are also in the habit of using very odd gesticulations, altogether {58} peculiar to themselves. Instead of pointing with their hands and fingers, they generally employ the mouth, which is done by thrusting out the lips in the direction of the spot, or object, which the inquirer wishes to find out—accompanied byaquíorallí está. This habit of substituting labial gestures for the usual mode of indicating, has grown from the use of thesarape, which keeps their hands and arms perpetually confined.[p141]
From the place where we left the wagons, till we reached theAngostura, or narrows,[94](a distance of 60 miles), we had followed a plain cart-road, which seemed everywhere passable for wagons. Here, however, we found the point of a table plain projecting abruptly against the river, so as to render it impossible for wagons to pass without great risk. The huge masses of solid rock, which occur in this place, and the rugged cliffs or brows of the table lands which rise above them, appear to have been mistaken by a detachment of the Texan Santa Fé expedition, for spurs of the Rocky Mountains; an error which was rational enough, as they not unfrequently tower to the height of two thousand feet above the valley, and are often as rocky and rough as the rudest heaps of trap-rock can make them. By ascending the main summit of these craggy promontories, however, the eastern ridge of the veritable Rocky Mountains may be seen, still very far off in the western horizon, with a widespread and apparently level table plain, intervening and extending in every direction, {59} as far as the eye can reach; for even the deep-cut chasms of the intersecting rivers are rarely visible except one be upon their very brink.
Upon expressing my fears that our wagons would not be able to pass theAngosturain safety, my comrades informed me that there was an excellent route, of which no previous mention had been made, passing near theCerro de Tucumcari, a round mound plainly visible to the southward.[95]After several vain efforts to induce some of the party to carry a[p142]note back to my brother, and to pilot the caravan through the Tucumcari route, one of them, known as Tio Baca, finally proposed to undertake the errand for a bounty of ten dollars, besides high wages till they should reach the frontier. His conditions being accepted, he set out after breakfast, not, however, without previously recommending himself to the Virgin Guadalupe, and all the saints in the calendar, and desiring us to remember him in our prayers. Notwithstanding his fears, however, he arrived in perfect safety, and I had the satisfaction of learning afterward that my brother found the new route everything he could have desired.
I continued my journey westward with my two remaining companions; but, owing to their being provided with a relay of horses, they very soon left me to make the balance of the travel alone—though yet in a region haunted by hostile savages. On the following day, about the hour of twelve, as I was pursuing a horse-path along the course of the {60} Rio Pecos, near the frontier settlements, I met with a shepherd, of whom I anxiously inquired the distance to San Miguel. "O, it is just there," responded the man of sheep. "Don't you see that point of mesa yonder? It is just beyond that." This welcome information cheered me greatly; for, owing to the extraordinary transparency of the atmosphere, it appeared to me that the distance could not exceed two or three miles. "Está cerquita," exclaimed the shepherd as I rode off; "ahora está V. allá"—"it is close by; you will soon be there."
I set off at as lively a pace as my jaded steed could carry me, confident of taking dinner in San Miguel.[96]Every ridge I turned I thought must be the last, and thus I jogged on, hoping and anticipating my future comforts till the shades of evening began to appear; when I descended into[p143]the valley of the Pecos, which, although narrow, is exceedingly fertile and beautifully lined with verdant fields, among which stood a great variety of mud cabins. About eight o'clock, I called at one of these cottages and again inquired the distance to San Miguel; when a swarthy-looking ranchero once more saluted mine ears with "Está cerquita; ahora está V. allá." Although the distance was designated in precisely the same words used by the shepherd eight hours before, I had the consolation at least of believing that I was something nearer. After spurring on for a couple of miles over a rugged road, I at last reached the long-sought village.
{61} The next day, I hired a Mexican to carry some flour back to meet the wagons; for our party was by this time running short of provisions. In fact, we should long before have been in danger of starvation, had it not been for our oxen; for we had not seen a buffalo since the day we first met with the Comanches. Some of our cattle being in good plight, and able, as we were, to spare a few from our teams, we made beef of them when urged by necessity: an extra advantage in ox teams on these perilous expeditions.
On the 25th of June I arrived safely at Santa Fé,—but again rode back to meet the wagons, which did not reach the capital till the 4th of July. We did not encounter a very favorable reception from 'his majesty,' Gov. Armijo. He had just established his arbitrary impost of $500 per wagon, which bore rather heavily upon us; for we had an overstock of coarse articles which we had merely brought along for the purpose of increasing the strength of our company, by adding to the number of our wagons.
But these little troubles in a business way, were entirely drowned in the joyful sensations arising from our safe arrival, after so long and so perilous an expedition. Considering the character and our ignorance of the country over which we had travelled, we had been exceedingly successful.[p144]Instances are certainly rare of heavily-laden wagons' having been conducted, without a guide, through an unexplored desert; and yet we {62} performed the trip without any important accident—without encountering any very difficult passes—without suffering for food or for water.
We had hoped that at least a few days of rest and quiet recreation might have been allowed us after our arrival; for relaxation was sorely needed at the end of so long a journey and its concomitant privations: but it was ordered otherwise. We had scarcely quartered ourselves within the town before a grand 'flare-up' took place between Gov. Armijo and the foreigners[97]in Santa Fé, which, for a little while, bid fair to result in open hostilities. It originated in the following circumstances.
In the winter of 1837-8, a worthy young American, named Daley, was murdered at the Gold Mines, by a couple of villains, solely for plunder. The assassins were arrested, when they confessed their guilt; but, in a short time, they were permitted to run at large again, in violation of every principle of justice or humanity. About this time they were once more apprehended, however, by the interposition of foreigners: and, at the solicitation of the friends of the deceased, a memorial from the Americans in Santa Fé was presented to Armijo, representing the injustice of permitting the murderers of their countrymen to go unpunished; and praying that the culprits might {63} be dealt with according to law. But the governor affected to consider the affair as a conspiracy; and, collecting his ragamuffin militia, attempted to intimidate the petitioners. The foreigners were now constrained to look to their defence, as they saw that[p145]no justice was to be expected. Had Armijo persisted, serious consequences might have ensued; but seeing the 'conspirators' firm, he sent an apology, affecting to have misconstrued their motives, and promising that the laws should be duly executed upon the murderers.
Besides the incentives of justice and humanity, foreigners felt a deep interest in the execution of this promise. But a few years previous, another person had been assassinated and robbed at the same place; yet the authorities having taken no interest in the matter, the felons were never discovered; and now, should these assassins escape the merited forfeit of their atrocious crime, it was evident there would be no future security for our lives and property. But the governor'sdue execution of the lawsconsisted in retaining them a year or two in nominal imprisonment, when they were again set at liberty. Besides these, other foreigners have been murdered in New Mexico with equal impunity:—all which contrasts very strikingly with the manner our courts of justice have since dealt with those who killed Chavez, in 1843, on the Santa Fé road.[98]