Oregon and Eldorado; or, Romance of the Rivers

SCENERY OF THE RIVER AND SHORES

Above the junction of the Multnomah River, we passed along under high, steep, and rocky sides of the mountains, which here close in on each side of the river, forming stupendous precipices, covered with the fir and white cedar. Down these heights frequently descend the most beautiful cascades, – one of which, a large stream, throws itself over a perpendicular rock, three hundred feet above the water; while other smaller streams precipitate themselves from a still greater elevation, and, separating into a mist, again collect, and form a second cascade before they reach the bottom of the rocks.

The hills on both sides of the river are about two hundred and fifty feet high, generally abrupt and craggy, and in many places presenting a perpendicular face of black, hard, basaltic rock. From the top of these hills, the country extends itself, in level plains, to a very great distance.

To one remarkable elevation we gave the name of Beacon Rock. It stands on the north side of the river, insulated from the hills. The northern side has a partial growth of fir or pine. To the south, it rises in an unbroken precipice to the height of seven hundred feet, where it terminates in a sharp point, and may be seen at the distance of twenty miles. This rock may be considered as the point where tidewater commences.

April 19. – We formed our camp at the foot of the Long Narrows, a little above a settlement of Skilloots. Their dwellings were formed by sticks set in the ground, and covered with mats and straw, and so large, that each was the residence of several families.

The whole village was filled with rejoicing at having caught a salmon, which was considered as the harbinger of vast quantities that would arrive in a few days. In the belief that it would hasten their coming, the Indians, according to their custom, dressed the fish, and cut it into small pieces, one of which was given to every child in the village; and, in the good humor excited by this occurrence, they parted, though reluctantly, with four horses, for which we gave them two kettles, reserving to ourselves only one.

We resumed our route, and soon after halted on a hill, from the top of which we had a commanding view of the range of mountains in which Mount Hood stands, and which continued south as far as the eye could reach; their summits being covered with snow. Mount Hood bore south thirty degrees west; and another snowy summit, which we have called Mount Jefferson, south ten degrees west.

Capt. Clarke crossed the river, with nine men and a large part of the merchandise, to purchase, if possible, twelve horses to transport our baggage, and some pounded fish, as a reserve, on the passage across the mountains. He succeeded in purchasing only four horses, and those at double the price that had been paid to the Shoshonees.

April 20. – As it was much for our interest to preserve the good will of these people, we passed over several small thefts which they had committed; but this morning we learned that six tomahawks and a knife had been stolen during the night. We addressed ourselves to the chief, who seemed angry with his people; but we did not recover the articles: and soon afterwards two of our spoons were missing. We therefore ordered them all from the camp. They left us in ill-humor, and we therefore kept on our guard against any insult.

April 22. – We began our march at seven o'clock. We had just reached the top of a hill near the village, when the load of one of the horses turned; and the animal, taking fright at a robe which still adhered to him, ran furiously toward the village. Just as he came there, the robe fell, and an Indian made way with it. The horse was soon caught; but the robe was missing, and the Indians denied having seen it. These repeated acts of knavery had quite exhausted our patience; and Capt. Lewis set out for the village, determined to make them deliver up the robe, or to burn their houses to the ground. This retaliation was happily rendered unnecessary; for on his way he met two of our men, who had found the robe in one of the huts, hid behind some baggage.

April 24. – The Indians had promised to take our canoes in exchange for horses; but, when they found that we were resolved on travelling by land, they refused giving us any thing for them, in hopes that we would be forced to leave them. Disgusted at this conduct, we determined rather to cut them in pieces than suffer these people to possess them; and actually began to do so, when they consented to give us several strands of beads for each canoe.

We had now a sufficient number of horses to carry our baggage, and therefore proceeded wholly by land. Passing between the hills and the northern shore of the river, we had a difficult and fatiguing march over a road alternately sandy and rocky.

The country through which we have passed for several days is of uniform character. The hills on both sides of the river are about two hundred and fifty feet high, in many places presenting a perpendicular face of black, solid rock. From the top of these hills, the country extends, in level plains, to a very great distance, and, though not as fertile as land near the falls, produces an abundant supply of low grass, which is an excellent food for horses. The grass must indeed be unusually nutritious: for even at this season of the year, after wintering on the dry grass of the plains, and being used with greater severity than is usual among the whites, many of the horses were perfectly fat; nor had we seen a single one that was really poor.

Having proceeded thirty-one miles, we halted for the night not far from some houses of the Walla-wallas. Soon after stopping, we were joined by seven of that tribe, among whom we recognized a chief by the name of Yellept, who had visited us in October last, when we gave him a medal.

He appeared very much pleased at seeing us again, and invited us to remain at his village three or four days, during which he would supply us with such food as they had, and furnish us with horses for our journey. After the cold, inhospitable treatment we had lately received, this kind offer was peculiarly acceptable. After having made a hasty meal, we accompanied him to his village. Immediately on our arrival, Yellept, who proved to be a man of much influence, collected the inhabitants, and after having made an harangue to them, the object of which was to induce them to treat us hospitably, set them an example by bringing himself an armful of wood, and a platter containing three roasted mullets. They immediately followed the example by furnishing us with an abundance of the only sort of fuel they use, – the stems of shrubs growing in the plains. We then purchased four dogs, on which we supped heartily, having been on short allowance for two days previously.

We learned from these people, that, opposite to their village, there was a route which led to the mouth of the Kooskooskee; that the road was good, and passed over a level country well supplied with water and grass; and that we should meet with plenty of deer and antelope. We knew that a road in that direction would shorten our route eighty miles; and we concluded to adopt this route.

Fortunately there was among these Walla-wallas a prisoner belonging to a tribe of the Shoshonee Indians. Our Shoshonee woman, Sacajawea, though she belonged to another tribe, spoke the same language as this prisoner; and by their means we were enabled to explain ourselves to the Indians, and to answer all their inquiries with respect to ourselves and the object of our journey. Our conversation inspired them with such confidence, that they soon brought several sick persons for whom they requested our assistance. We splintered the broken arm of one, gave some relief to another whose knee was contracted by rheumatism, and administered what we thought would be useful for ulcers and eruptions of the skin on various parts of the body, which are very common disorders among them. But our most valuable medicine was eye-water, which we distributed, and which, indeed, they very much required; for complaints of the eyes, occasioned by living so much on the water, and aggravated by the fine sand of the plains, were universal among them.

We were by no means dissatisfied at this new resource for obtaining subsistence, as the Indians would give us no provisions without merchandise, and our stock was very much reduced. We carefully abstained from giving them any thing but harmless medicines; and our prescriptions might be useful, and were therefore entitled to some remuneration.

May 5. – Almost the only instance of rudeness we encountered in our whole trip occurred here. We made our dinner on two dogs and a small quantity of roots. While we were eating, an Indian standing by, and looking with great derision at our eating dog's-flesh, threw a half-starved puppy almost into Capt. Lewis's plate, laughing heartily at the humor of it. Capt. Lewis took up the animal, and flung it back with great force into the fellow's face, and, seizing his tomahawk, threatened to cut him down if he dared to repeat such insolence. He went off, apparently much mortified; and we continued our dog-repast very quietly.

Here we met our old Chopunnish guide and his family; and soon afterward one of our horses, which had been separated from the others in the charge of Twisted-hair, was caught, and restored to us.

THE WALLA-WALLA

We reached (May 1) a branch of the Walla-walla River. The hills of this creek are generally abrupt and rocky; but the narrow bottom bordering the stream is very fertile, and both possess twenty times as much timber as the Columbia itself. Indeed, we now find, for the first time since leaving Fort Clatsop, an abundance of firewood. The growth consists of cotton-wood, birch, the crimson haw, willow, choke-cherry, yellow currants, gooseberry, honeysuckle, rose-bushes, sumac, together with some corn-grass and rushes.

The advantage of a comfortable fire induced us, as the night was come, to halt at this place. We were soon supplied by Drewyer with a beaver and an otter; of which we took only a part of the beaver, and gave the rest to the Indians. The otter is a favorite food, though much inferior, in our estimation, to the dog, which they will not eat. The horse, too, is seldom eaten, and never except when absolute necessity compels. This fastidiousness does not, however, seem to proceed so much from any dislike to the food as from attachment to the animal; for many of them eat very freely of the horse-beef we give them.

There is very little difference in the general face of the country here from that of the plains on the Missouri, except that the latter are enlivened by vast herds of buffaloes, elks, and other animals, which are wanting here. Over these wide bottoms we continued, till, at the distance of twenty-six miles from our last encampment, we halted for the night.

We had scarcely encamped, when three young men from the Walla-walla village came in with a steel-trap, which we had inadvertently left behind, and which they had come a whole day's journey on purpose to restore. This act of integrity was the more pleasing because it corresponds perfectly with the general behavior of the Walla-wallas, among whom we had lost carelessly several knives, which were always returned as soon as found. We may, indeed, justly affirm, that, of all the Indians whom we have met, the Walla-wallas were the most hospitable, honest, and sincere.

TWISTED-HAIR

On Wednesday, the 7th of May, we reached the Kooskooskee, and found it much more navigable than when we descended it last year. The water was risen, and covered the rocks and shoals. Here we found the chief, named Twisted-hair, in whose charge we had left our horses in our outward journey. We had suspicions that our horses, and especially our saddles, might not be easily recoverable after our long absence. The Twisted-hair was invited to come, and smoke with us. He accepted the invitation, and, as we smoked our pipes over the fire, informed us, that, according to his promise, he had collected the horses, and taken charge of them; but another chief, the Broken-arm, becoming jealous of him because the horses were confided to his care, was constantly quarrelling with him. At length, being an old man, and unwilling to live in perpetual disputes, he had given up the care of the horses, which had consequently become scattered. The greater part of them were, however, still in this neighborhood. He added, that on the rise of the river, in the spring, the earth had fallen from the door of the cache, and exposed the saddles, some of which had probably been lost; but, as soon as he was acquainted with the situation of them, he had had them buried in another place, where they were now. He promised that he would, on the morrow, send his young men, and collect such of the horses as were in the neighborhood. He kept his word. Next day, the Indians brought in twenty-one of the horses, the greater part of which were in excellent order; and the Twisted-hair restored about half the saddles we had left in the cache, and some powder and lead which were buried at the same place.

CHAPTER XVII.

THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS

May 17. – The country along the Rocky Mountains, for several hundred miles in length and fifty in width, is a high level plain; in all its parts extremely fertile, and in many places covered with a growth of tall, long-leaved pine. Nearly the whole of this wide tract is covered with a profusion of grass and plants, which are at this time as high as the knee. Among these are a variety of esculent plants and roots, yielding a nutritious and agreeable food. The air is pure and dry; the climate as mild as that of the same latitudes in the Atlantic States, and must be equally healthy, since all the disorders which we have witnessed may fairly be imputed to other causes than the climate. Of course, the degrees of heat and cold obey the influence of situation. Thus the rains of the low grounds are snows in the high plains; and, while the sun shines with intense heat in the confined river-bottoms, the plains enjoy a much cooler air; and, at the foot of the mountains, the snows are even now many feet in depth.

CROSSING THE MOUNTAINS

An attempt to cross the mountains in the early part of June failed on account of the snow, which still covered the track. It was plain we should have no chance of finding either grass or underwood for our horses. To proceed, therefore, would be to hazard the loss of our horses; in which case, if we should be so fortunate as to escape with our lives, we should be obliged to abandon our papers and collections. It was accordingly decided not to venture farther; to deposit here all the baggage and provisions for which we had no immediate use, and to return to some spot where we might live by hunting till the snow should have melted, or a guide be procured to conduct us. We submitted, June 17, to the mortification of retracing our steps three days' march.

On the 24th June, having been so fortunate as to engage three Indians to go with us to the falls of the Missouri for the compensation of two guns, we set out on our second attempt to cross the mountains. On reaching the place where we had left our baggage, we found our deposit perfectly safe. It required two hours to arrange our baggage, and prepare a hasty meal; after which the guides urged us to set off, as we had a long ride to make before we could reach a spot where there was grass for our horses. We mounted, and followed their steps; sometimes crossed abruptly steep hills, and then wound along their sides, near tremendous precipices, where, had our horses slipped, we should have been irrecoverably lost. Our route lay along the ridges which separate the waters of the Kooskooskee and Chopunnish, and above the heads of all the streams; so that we met no running water. Late in the evening, we reached a spot where we encamped near a good spring of water. It was on the steep side of a mountain, with no wood, and a fair southern aspect, from which the snow seemed to have disappeared for about ten days, and an abundant growth of young grass, like greensward, had sprung up. There was also a species of grass not unlike flag, with a broad succulent leaf, which is confined to the upper parts of the mountains. It is a favorite food with the horses; but it was then either covered with snow, or just making its appearance.

June 27. – We continued our route over the high and steep hills of the same great ridge. At eight miles' distance, we reached an eminence where the Indians have raised a conical mound of stone six or eight feet high. From this spot we have a commanding view of the surrounding mountains, which so completely enclose us, that, although we have once passed them, we should despair of ever escaping from them without the assistance of the Indians; but our guides traverse this trackless region with a kind of instinctive sagacity. They never hesitate; they are never embarrassed; yet so undeviating is their step, that, wherever the snow has disappeared for even a hundred paces, we find the summer road. With their aid, the snow is scarcely a disadvantage; for although we are often obliged to slide down, yet the fallen timber and the rocks, which are now covered up, were much more troublesome when we passed in the autumn.

NOTE. A later traveller through this region writes, "The mountains are indeed rocky. They are rocks heaped upon rocks, with no vegetation, excepting a few cedars growing out of the crevices near their base. Their tops are covered with perpetual snow. The main ridge of the mountains is of gneiss rock; yet, to-day, parallel ridges of a rock, nearly allied to basalt, have abounded. These ridges appear to be volcanic, forced up in dikes at different distances from each other, running from east-north-east to west-south-west. The strata are mostly vertical; but some are a little dipped to the south.

"Our encampment was near a small stream which runs through a volcanic chasm, which is more than a hundred feet deep, with perpendicular sides. Here was a passage made for the water by fire."

THE PARTY AGREE TO SEPARATE

July 3, 1806. – It was agreed here that the expedition should be divided, to unite again at the confluence of the Missouri and the Yellowstone. The separation took place near the point where Clarke's River is crossed by the forty-seventh parallel of latitude. Capt. Lewis, with nine men, was to cross the mountains in a direction as nearly due east as possible, expecting to find some tributary of the Missouri, by following which he might reach that river, and by it retrace his way homeward. Capt. Clarke, with the remainder of the party, was to seek the head waters of the Yellowstone, and follow that stream to the proposed place of re-union.

In conformity with this arrangement, Capt. Lewis, under the guidance of friendly Indians, crossed the mountains by a route which led him, after travelling one hundred and four miles, to Medicine River, and by that river to the Missouri. He reached the falls of the Missouri on the 17th of July, and leaving there a portion of his party, under Sergt. Gass, to make preparations for transporting their baggage and canoes round the falls, set out, accompanied by Drewyer and the two brothers Fields, with six horses, to explore Maria's River, to ascertain its extent toward the north. From the 18th to the 26th, they were engaged in this exploration. On the eve of their return, an event occurred, which, being the only instance in which the expedition was engaged in any conflict with the Indians with loss of life, requires to be particularly related.

CONFLICT WITH THE INDIANS

We were passing through a region frequented by the Minnetarees, a band of Indians noted for their thievish propensities and unfriendly dispositions. Capt. Lewis was therefore desirous to avoid meeting with them. Drewyer had been sent out for game, and Capt. Lewis ascended a hill to look over the country. Scarcely had he reached the top, when he saw, about a mile on his left, a collection of about thirty horses. By the aid of his spy-glass, he discovered that one-half of the horses were saddled, and that, on the eminence above the horses, several Indians were looking down towards the river, probably at Drewyer. This was a most unwelcome sight. Their probable numbers rendered any contest with them of doubtful issue. To attempt to escape would only invite pursuit; and our horses were so bad, that we must certainly be overtaken: besides which, Drewyer could not yet be aware that Indians were near; and, if we ran, he would most probably be sacrificed. We therefore determined to make the best of our situation, and advance towards them in a friendly manner. The flag which we had brought in case of such an emergency was therefore displayed, and we continued slowly our march towards them. Their whole attention was so engaged by Drewyer, that they did not immediately discover us. As soon as they did so, they appeared to be much alarmed, and ran about in confusion. When we came within a quarter of a mile, one of the Indians mounted, and rode towards us. When within a hundred paces of us, he halted; and Capt. Lewis, who had alighted to receive him, held out his hand, and beckoned him to approach: but he only looked at us, and then, without saying a word, returned to his companions.

The whole party now descended the hill, and rode towards us. As yet we saw only eight, but presumed that there must be more behind, as there were several more horses saddled. Capt. Lewis had with him but two men; and he told them his fears that these were Indians of the Minnetaree tribe, and that they would attempt to rob us, and advised them to be on the alert, should there appear any disposition to attack us.

When the two parties came within a hundred yards of each other, all the Indians, except one, halted. Capt. Lewis therefore ordered his two men to halt, while he advanced, and, after shaking hands with the Indian, went on and did the same with the others in the rear, while the Indian himself shook hands with our two men. They all now came up; and, after alighting, the Indians asked to smoke with us. Capt. Lewis, who was very anxious for Drewyer's safety, told them that the man who had gone down the river had the pipe, and requested, that, as they had seen him, one of them would accompany R. Fields to bring him back. To this they assented; and Fields went with a young man in search of Drewyer, who returned with them.

As it was growing late, Capt. Lewis proposed that they should encamp with us; for he was glad to see them, and had a great deal to say to them. They assented; and, being soon joined by Drewyer, the evening was spent in conversation with the Indians, in which Capt. Lewis endeavored to persuade them to cultivate peace with their neighbors. Finding them very fond of the pipe, Capt. Lewis, who was desirous of keeping a constant watch during the night, smoked with them to a late hour; and, as soon as they were all asleep, he woke R. Fields, and ordering him to rouse us all in case any Indian left the camp, as he feared they would attempt to steal our horses, he lay down by the side of Drewyer in the tent with the Indians, while the brothers Fields were stretched near the fire at the mouth of the tent.

At sunrise, the Indians got up, and crowded round the fire, near which J. Fields, who was then on watch, had carelessly left his rifle, near the head of his brother, who was asleep. One of the Indians slipped behind him, and, unperceived, took his brother's and his own rifle; while at the same time two others seized those of Drewyer and Capt. Lewis. As soon as Fields turned round, he saw the Indian running off with the rifles; and, instantly calling his brother, they pursued him for fifty or sixty yards; and just as they overtook him, in the scuffle for the rifles, R. Fields stabbed him through the heart with his knife. The Indian ran a few steps, and fell dead. They recovered their rifles, and ran back to the camp.

The moment the fellow touched his gun, Drewyer, who was awake, jumped up, and wrested it from him. The noise awoke Capt. Lewis, who instantly started from the ground, and reached to seize his gun, but found it gone, and, turning about, saw the Indian running off with it. He followed, and called to him to lay down the gun; which he did. By this time, the rest of the Indians were endeavoring to drive off our horses; and Capt. Lewis ordered his men to follow them, and fire upon the thieves if they did not release our horses. The result was, that we recovered four of our horses, and as many of theirs which they had left behind; so that we were rather gainers by the contest. Besides the Indian killed by Fields, one other was badly wounded.

We had no doubt but that we should be immediately pursued by a much larger party. Our only chance of safety was in rejoining our friends, who were many miles distant. We therefore pushed our horses as fast as we could; and, fortunately for us, the Indian horses proved very good. The plains were level, free from stones and prickly-pears, and in fine order for travelling over from the late rains. We commenced our ride in the early morning. At three o'clock, we had ridden, by estimate, sixty-three miles. We halted for an hour and a half to refresh our horses; then pursued our journey seventeen miles farther, when, as night came on, we killed a buffalo, and again stopped for two hours. The sky was now overclouded; but, as the moon gave light enough to show us the route, we continued for twenty miles farther, and then, exhausted with fatigue, halted at two in the morning. Next day, we rejoined the main body of our party in safety.

Capt. Lewis with his companions pursued their way down the Missouri, passing those points already noticed in their ascent. Our narrative, therefore, will leave them here, and attend the course of Capt. Clarke and his party down the Yellowstone.

CHAPTER XVIII.

CAPT. CLARKE'S ROUTE DOWN THE YELLOWSTONE