They had been urged on, by forced marches, over rugged heights,
among rocks and fallen timber, or over low swampy valleys,
inundated by the labors of the beaver. These industrious animals
abounded in all the mountain streams and watercourses, wherever
there were willows for their subsistence. Many of them they had
so completely dammed up as to inundate the low grounds, making
shallow pools or lakes, and extensive quagmires; by which the
route of the travellers was often impeded.
On the 19th of September, they rose at early dawn; some began to
prepare breakfast, and others to arrange the packs preparatory to
a march. The horses had been hobbled, but left at large to graze
upon the adjacent pasture. Mr. Stuart was on the bank of a river,
at a short distance from the camp, when he heard the alarm cry -
"Indians! Indians! -to arms! to arms!"
A mounted Crow galloped past the camp, bearing a red flag. He
reined his steed on the summit of a neighboring knoll, and waved
his flaring banner. A diabolical yell now broke forth on the
opposite side of the camp, beyond where the horses were grazing,
and a small troop of savages came galloping up, whooping and
making a terrific clamor. The horses took fright, and dashed
across the camp in the direction of the standard-bearer,
attracted by his waving flag. He instantly put spurs to his
steed, and scoured off followed by the panic-stricken herd, their
fright being increased by the yells of the savages in their rear.
At the first alarm, Mr. Stuart and his comrades had seized their
rifles, and attempted to cut off the Indians who were pursuing
the horses. Their attention was instantly distracted by whoops
and yells in an opposite direction.
They now apprehended that a reserve party was about to carry off
their baggage. They ran to secure it. The reserve party, however,
galloped by, whooping and yelling in triumph and derision. The
last of them proved to be their commander, the identical giant
joker already mentioned. He was not cast in the stern poetical
mold of fashionable Indian heroism, but on the contrary, was
grievously given to vulgar jocularity. As he passed Mr. Stuart
and his companions, he checked his horse, raised himself in his
saddle, and clapping his hand on the most insulting part of his
body, uttered some jeering words, which, fortunately for their
delicacy, they could not understand. The rifle of Ben Jones was
leveled in an instant, and he was on the point of whizzing a
bullet into the target so tauntingly displayed. "Not for your
life! not for your life!" exclaimed Mr. Stuart, "you will bring
destruction on us all!"
It was hard to restrain honest Ben, when the mark was so fair and
the insult so foul. "0, Mr. Stuart," exclaimed he, "only let me
have one crack at the infernal rascal, and you may keep all the
pay that is due to me."
"By heaven, if you fire," cried Mr. Stuart, "I'll blow your
brains out."
By this time the Indian was far out of reach, and had rejoined
his men, and the whole dare-devil band, with the captured horses,
scuttled off along the defiles, their red flag flaunting
overhead, and the rocks echoing to their whoops and yells, and
demoniac laughter.
The unhorsed travellers gazed after them in silent mortification
and despair; yet Mr. Stuart could not but admire the style and
spirit with which the whole exploit had been managed, and
pronounced it one of the most daring and intrepid actions he had
ever heard of among Indians. The whole number of the Crows did
not exceed twenty. In this way a small gang of lurkers will hurry
off the cavalry of a large war party, for when once a drove of
horses are seized with panic, they become frantic, and nothing
short of broken necks can stop them.
No one was more annoyed by this unfortunate occurrence than Ben
Jones. He declared he would actually have given his whole arrears
of pay, amounting to upwards of a year's wages, rather than be
balked of such a capital shot. Mr. Stuart, however, represented
what might have been the consequence of so rash an act. Life for
life is the Indian maxim. The whole tribe would have made common
cause in avenging the death of a warrior. The party were but
seven dismounted men, with a wide mountain region to traverse,
infested by these people, and which might all be roused by signal
fires. In fact, the conduct of the band of marauders in question,
showed the perseverance of savages when once they have fixed
their minds upon a project. These fellows had evidently been
silent and secretly dogging the party for a week past, and a
distance of a hundred and fifty miles, keeping out of sight by
day, lurking about the encampment at night, watching all their
movements, and waiting for a favorable moment when they should be
off their guard. The menace of Mr. Stuart, in their first
interview, to shoot the giant chief with his pistol, and the
fright caused among the warriors by presenting the rifles, had
probably added the stimulus of pique to their usual horse-
stealing propensities. And in this mood of mind they would
doubtless have followed the party throughout their whole course
over the Rocky Mountains, rather than be disappointed in their
scheme.
CHAPTER XLVI.
Travellers Unhorsed- Pedestrian Preparations- Prying Spies.-
Bonfires of Baggage- A March on Foot.- Rafting a River - The
Wounded Elk.- Indian Trails.- Willful Conduct of Mr. M'Lellan.-
Grand Prospect From a Mountain.- Distant Craters of Volcanoes-
Illness of Mr. Crooks.
FEW reverses in this changeful world are more complete and
disheartening than that of a traveller, suddenly unhorsed, in the
midst of the wilderness.
