CHAPTER VII.
BEAR RIVER MOUNTAINS — BEAR RIVER — TRAPPING — REMARKS ON THE TRAPPERS— A STAMPEDE—ALARM—FLIGHT—MORE SCARED THAN HURT — THE JOKE ON ME — STAND TREAT.
It is unnecessary to weary the reader with farther detail of mountain life. Unless in cases of extreme peril, from savages or wild beasts, the seenes are monotonous; and enough I think has already been recorded to give a correct idea of life as it is, with all its dangers and hardships, beyond the boundaries of civilization. I may therefore be permitted to press forward— annihilate time and space—only pausing occasionally to give something new, or out of the regular routine of every day adventure. It was my intention on leaving Fort Hall, to make the best of my way toward Taos — a small Mexican village, much frequented by mountaineers, situated in the country of Texas, on the western side of an arm of the Green Mountains, some fifty or sixty miles north of Santa Fé, and on a small tributary of the Rio Grande. This was to be my first destination, and where I was in hopes to gain some intelligence of my friend, from the many adventurers there collected — the traveling representatives of all the territories as well as Mexico. It was possible, too, I might fall in with Leni Leoti (which the reader will bear in mind is the Indian name of Prairie Flower), and her tribe, from whom I had sanguine expectations of gaining some information, either good or bad. If Prairie Flower had, as I inferred from what Black George imparted, actually been in search of Charles Huntly, I could at once gain the result and extent of her operations, and shape my own accordingly. With this view of the matter, as may readily be supposed, I felt no little anxiety to see her, and on no route, to my thinking, would I be more likely to find her, than on the one I had chosen and was now pursuing. Making the best of our way over the hills, we struck the Bear river on the third day from leaving Fort Hall. This river, which takes its rise in the very heart of the mountain range to which it gives name, presents the curious phenomenon of a stream running adverse ways, and nearly parallel to itself, for a distance of from one to two hundred miles. Beginning, as just stated, in the very center of the Bear River Mountains, it dashes away northward on its devious course, for a hundred and fifty or two hundred miles, and then, encircling a high ridge with the bend of an ox how, runs southward nearly the same distance, enlarging with numerous tributaries, and empties at last into the Great Salt Lake, within fifty or seventy-five miles of its own head waters. Formerly this stream was much resorted to by trappers, who here found beaver very numerous, and mountain game in abundance. Beaver dams, in process of decay, may here and there be seen at the present day, and, at rare intervals, a thriving settlement of the little fellows themselves; but, as Black George remarked with a sigh of regret: "It aint what it used to was, no how." Soon after we had camped, Black George, who ever had an eye to business, started out in search of game, and soon returned with the intelligence that "beaver sign was about," and forthwith proceeded to get his traps, which he had brought along in his possibles. "What are you going to do?" 1 inquired. "Make 'em come, hoss—nothin short." As I had never witnessed the modus operandi of catching beaver, I expressed a desire to do so, which was responded to with: "Come on, Bosson, and I'll put ye through." Taking our way to the river, which was here rather shallow, Black George led me down some two hundred yards, and then directed my attention to some small tracks made in the muddy bottom of the stream, along the margin of the water. "Them's the sign, d'ye see! and thar's fur about, sartin, or this nigger don't know beaver." Saying this, the old mountaineer proceeded to set his traps, of which he had some five or six. Moistening a small stick in his "medicine," as he termed it—an oily substance obtained from a gland of the beaver—he fastened it to the trap, and then placed the latter in the "run" of the animal, just under the edge of the water, securing it to a sapling on the bank by a small cord. Another cord led off from the trap several feet, and was attached to a "floating stick"—so called from its floating on the water—by which appendage the trapper, in case the beaver caught makes off with his property, is enabled to recover it. "And now," said I, when he had done, "what inducement has the animal to become your victim?" "Why he gits to be my meat you mean?" "Exactly." "Well, I'll jest explanify—though maybe I'll not git it out as scientiferic nor some folks—for's I said sometime ago, edication never come in this child's line. Ye see, it's jest this: beaver's like I've hearn say women-folks was. He's got an orful cur'osity, and it gits him into bad snaps without his intendin it. Ye see, he'll come along here arter a while, and he'll smell that thar "medicine," and think maybe thar's another beaver about— leastwise he'll want to know purty bad— and so he'll come smellin round, and afore he knows it, 'he's put his foot in't,' and is a gone beaver. Augh!" Having delivered himself of this, Black George coolly continued his operations, till all his traps were set, and then together we returned to our camp. On arriving, I found that the beaver mania had taken possession of Black George's companions, who were in consequence absent with like sinister designs against the harmless little fellows. On returning with the old mountaineer in the morning, I soon discovered he had "made a raise," as he expressed it, "of three old 'uns and a kitten." The other trappers were somewhat successful also; so that on that fatal night, no less than a dozen beaver lost their "run" forever. Before raising camp, my mountain friends proceeded to skin the animals, scrape the inside of the pelts of fat and all superfluous matter, and then stretch them on hoops for drying—after which they were ready for packing. This latter is done by turning the fur inside, putting several together and fastening them with cords, when they are tightly pressed into the possibles of the trapper, and thus conveyed on mules to the rendezvous-market, sometimes one place and sometimes another. The labor of the trapper is very severe, and his perils without number. Some times he traps on his own account—alone, or with two or three associates—and sometimes for a company. In the first instance, his cognomen is the "free trapper;" in the last, the "hired hand." In either case, however, his hardships are the same, He sets off to the mountain s, as soon as the spring rains are over, and there generally remains till the approaching storms of autumn drive him to winter quarters, where his time is spent in all kinds of dissipation to which he is accessible. If he makes a fortune in the summer, he spends it in the winter, and returns to his vocation in the spring as poor as when he started the year previous; and not unfrequently worse off; for if a "free trapper," ten to one but he sacrifices his animals in some drunken, gambling spree, and is forced to go out on credit, or as a "hired hand." He braves all kind of weather in his business, and all kinds of danger, from the common accidents of the mountains, to his conflicts with wild beasts, and wilder and more ferocious savages. But he is a philosopher, and does not mind trifles. So he escapes with a whole skin, or even with life, he looks upon his hardships, encounters and mishaps, only as so much literary stock, to be retailed out to his companions over a warm fire, a euchre deck, and a can of whisky. Seeking the best beaver regions, he scans carefully all the rivers, creeks, and rivulets in the vicinity for "beaver sign," regardless of danger. If he finds a tree across a stream, he gives it close attention, to ascertain whether it is there by accident, by human design, or whether it is "thrown" by the animal of his search for the purpose of damming the water. If the first or second, he passes on; if the last, he begins his search for the "run of the critter." He carefully scrutinizes all the banks, and peers under them for "beaver tracks." If he finds any, his next examination is to ascertain whether they are "old" or "fresh." If the latter, then his traps are set forthwith, in the manner already shown. In his daily routine of business, he not unfrequently encounters terrible storms of rain or snow — the former suflicient to deluge him and raise rivulets to rivers— and the latter to bury him, without almost superhuman exertions, far from mortal eye, and there hold him to perish, "Unwept, unhonored, and unsung." These are the least of his dangers. He is often attacked by wild beasts, when nothing but his presence of mind, his coolness and good marksmanship, can extricate him from his difficulty;
and yet he rarely fails to come off conqueror. Escaping these, he must be continually on his guard against his worst foe, the wily Indian; so that he can never approach a bush with the surety that a treacherous ball may not put a close to his mortal career, and all his hard earnings pass into the hands of an enemy he ever hates with the bitterness of concentrated passion. With all these dangers, and hardships, and vicissitudes, your bona fide trapper loves his calling, would not be content to follow any other and is in general a rough, jolly, dare-devil sort of fellow, who not unfrequently attains to the appointed age of man, and at last "goes under" with all the stoicism of a martyr, "With not a stone, and not a line, To tell he e'er had been." Continuing our course, but in a more easterly direction, we at length quitted the mountains and descended to a large, beautiful, rolling prairie, with little or no vegetation but short buffalo grass. Taking our way over this, we had been about half a day out, and were beginning to lose sight of the lower ranges of hills, when we heard a deep rumbling, like heavy thunder or a distant earthquake, and our guide came to a sudden halt, exclaiming: "Le Diable!" "Howly jabers! what is it, now?" cried Teddy. "Hist!" exclaimed Black George. "I'll be dog-gone ef I don't think we're chawed up this time, sure as sin!" "What is it?" I echoed. "Von grande stampede, by gar!" answered Pierre. "Stampede of what, I pray?" "Buffler," replied Black George, sententiously. "Where are they?" "Yonder they is now—here a-ways they soon will be;" and as he spoke, he pointed over the plain with his finger. Following the direction with my eyes, I beheld in the distance a cloud of dust, which rolled upward like a morning fog, through which, and in which, I could occasionally catch a glimpse of the huge animals, as they bounded forward with railroad velocity. "What is to be done?" I cried. "Grin and bear it," responded the old trapper. "But we shall be trodden to death See! they are coming this way!" "Can't die younger," was the cool rejoinder. "But can we not fly?" "Howly mother of Mary!" shouted Teddy, worked up to a keen pitch of excitement; "it's fly we must, sure, as if the divil was afther us, barring that our flying must be did on baasts, as have no wings, now, but long legs, jist" "What for you run, eh?" grinned the Frenchman. "Him catche you, by gar! just so easy as you catche him, von leetle, tam—vot you call him—musquito, eh!" "It's no use o' showing them critters our backs," rejoined Black George. "Heyar's what don't turn back on nothin that's got hair." "Well," continued I, "you may do as you please; but as for myself, I have no desire to stand in my tracks and die without an effort." Saying this I wheeled my horse and, was just in the act of putting spurs to him, when Black George suddenly dashed up along side and caught my bridle. "See heyar, boy—don't go to runnin— or you'll discomflumicate yourself oudaciously— you will, by —! Eh, Pierre?" "Certainment, by gar!" answered the guide; and then both burst into a hearty laugh. "What do you mean?" cried I, in astonishment, unable to comprehend their singular actions; and I turned to the other mountaineers, who were sitting quietly on their horses, and inquired if they did not think there was danger. "Thar's al'ays danger," replied one, "in times like this; but thar's no safety in runnin." "For Heaven's sake, what are we to do, then? Stay here quietly and get run over?" Black George gave a quiet laugh, and the Frenchman proceeded to take snuff. This was too much for my patience. I felt myself insulted, and jerking away my rein from the hand of the trapper, I exclaimed indignantly: "I do not stay here to be the butt of any party. Teddy, follow me!" The next moment I was dashing over the prairie at the full speed of my horse, and the Irishman, to use a nautical phrase, close in my wake, whooping and shouting with delight at what he considered a narrow escape. The direction we had taken was the same as that pursued by the running buffalo; and we could only hope for ultimate safety, by reaching some huge tree, rock, or other obstacle to their progress, in advance of them. How far we would have to run to accomplish this, there was no telling; for as far as the eye could reach ahead of us, we saw nothing but the same monotonous rolling plain. The herd, thundering on in our rear, was so numerous and broad, that an attempt to ride out of its way, by turning to the right or left, could not be thought of — as the velocity of the animals would be certain to bring a wing upon us, ere we could clear their lines. There was nothing for it, then, but a dead race; and I will be free to own, the thought of this fairly chilled my blood. Exposed as I had been to all kinds of danger, I had never felt more alarmed and, depressed in spirits than now. What could my companions mean by their indifference and levity? Was it possible that, having given themselves up for lost, the excitement had stupified some, and turned the brains of others? Horrible thought! I shuddered, and turned on my horse to look back. There they stood dismounted, rifles in hand, and, just beyond them, the mighty host still booming forward. Poor fellows! all hope with them is over, I thought; and with a sigh at their fate, I withdrew my gaze and urged on my steed. On, on we sped, for a mile or more, when I ventured another look behind me. Judge of my surprise, on beholding a long line of buffalo to the right and left, rushing away in different directions, while directly before me, nothing was visible but my friends, who, on perceiving me look back, made signs for me to halt and await them. I did so, and in a few minutes they came up laughing. "Why, Bosson," said Black George, waggishly, "I hope as how you've run the skeer out o' ye by this time; for I'll be dog-gone ef you can't travel a few, on pertikelar occasions!" "Oui, Monsieur," added Pierre, "vous 'ave von le plus grande—vot you call him— locomotion, eh?" "But how, in the name of all that is wonderful, did you escape," rejoined I. "Just as nateral as barkin to a pup." answered Black George. "We didn't none on us hev no fear no time; and was only jest playin possum, to see ef we could make your hair stand; never 'spectin, though, you was a-goin to put out and leave us." "But pray tell me how you extricated yourselves?" said I, feeling rather crestfallen at my recent unheroic display. "Why, jest as easy as shootin—and jest that, hoss, and nothin else." "Explain yourself." "Well then, we kind o' waited till them critters got up, so as we could see thar peepers shine, and then we all burnt powder and tumbled over two or three leaders. This skeered them as was behind, and they jest sniffed, and snorted, and sot off ayther ways like darnation. It warnt anything wonderful—that warnt—and it 'ud been onnateral for 'em to done anything else." "I say, your honor," rejoined Teddy, with a significant wink, "it's like, now, we've made jackasses o' ourselves, barring your honor." "Very like," returned I biting my lips with vexation, "all but the barring." The truth is, I felt much as one caught in a mean act, and I would have given no small sum to have had the joke on some one else. I detected many a quiet smile curling the lips of my companions, when they thought I did not notice them, and I knew by this they were laughing in their sleeves, as the saying is; but, being in my service, did not care to irrita te my feelings by a more open display. It was very galling to a sensitive person to know he has made himself ridiculous, and is a private subject of jest with his inferiors. It is no use for one under such circumstances to fret, and foam, and show temper. No! such things only make the matter worse. The best way is to come out boldly, own to the joke, and join in the laugh. Acting upon this, I said: "Friends, I have made a fool of myself— I am aware of it—and you are at liberty to enjoy the joke to its full extent. But remember, you must not spread it! and when we reach a station, consider me your debtor for a 'heavy wet,' all round." This proved a decided hit. All laughed freely at the time, and that was the last I heard of it, till I fulfilled my liquor pledge at Uintah Fort, when Black George ventured the toast, "Buffler and a run," which was followed with roars of mirth at my expense, and there the matter ended.
CHAPTER VIII.
A BEAUTIFUL VALLEY—A LEGEND—THE OLD TRAPPER'S STORY — FATE OF BEN BOSE — REFLECTIONS—TEDDY'S ACCOUNT OF HIMSELF— DEATH OF HIS PARENTS — THE "OULD PRAAST"—HIS FIRST LOVE—THE WAY HE CAME TO LEAVE IRELAND — ALARMING ONSET OF INDIANS.
Bennett, Emerson - Prairie Flower 02 Page 6
