Reports made by the
disruption and fall of great masses of rock, reverberated and
prolonged by the echoes; others, to the disengagement of
hydrogen, produced by subterraneous beds of coal in a state of
ignition. In whatever way this singular phenomenon may be
accounted for, the existence of it appears to be well
established. It remains one of the lingering mysteries of nature
which throw something of a supernatural charm over her wild
mountain solitudes; and we doubt whether the imaginative reader
will not rather join with the poor Indian in attributing it to
the thunderspirits, or the guardian genii of unseen treasures,
than to any commonplace physical cause.
Whatever might be the supernatural influences among these
mountains, the travellers found their physical difficulties hard
to cope with. They made repeated attempts to find a passage
through or over the chain, but were as often turned back by
impassable barriers. Sometimes a defile seemed to open a
practicable path, but it would terminate in some wild chaos of
rocks and cliffs, which it was impossible to climb. The animals
of these solitary regions were different from those they had been
accustomed to. The black-tailed deer would bound up the ravines
on their approach, and the bighorn would gaze fearlessly down
upon them from some impending precipice, or skip playfully from
rock to rock. These animals are only to be met with in
mountainous regions. The former is larger than the common deer,
but its flesh is not equally esteemed by hunters. It has very
large ears, and the tip of the tail is black, from which it
derives its name.
The bighorn is so named from its horns; which are of a great
size, and twisted like those of a ram. It is called by some the
argali, by others the ibex, though differing from both of these
animals. The Mandans call it the ahsahta, a name much better than
the clumsy appellation which it generally bears. It is of the
size of a small elk, or large deer, and of a dun color, excepting
the belly and round the tail, where it is white. In its habits it
resembles the goat, frequenting the rudest precipices; cropping
the herbage from their edges; and like the chamois, bounding
lightly and securely among dizzy heights, where the hunter dares
not venture. It is difficult, therefore, to get within shot of
it. Ben Jones the hunter, however, in one of the passes of the
Black Hills, succeeded in bringing down a bighorn from the verge
of a precipice, the flesh of which was pronounced by the gormands
of the camp to have the flavor of excellent mutton.
Baffled in his attempts to traverse this mountain chain, Mr. Hunt
skirted along it to the southwest, keeping it on the right; and
still in hopes of finding an opening. At an early hour one day,
he encamped in a narrow valley on the banks of a beautifully
clear but rushy pool; surrounded by thickets bearing abundance of
wild cherries, currants, and yellow and purple gooseberries.
While the afternoon's meal was in preparation, Mr. Hunt and Mr.
M'Kenzie ascended to the summit of the nearest hill, from whence,
aided by the purity and transparency of the evening atmosphere,
they commanded a vast prospect on all sides. Below them extended
a plain, dotted with innumerable herds of buffalo. Some were
lying among the herbage, others roaming in their unbounded
pastures, while many were engaged in fierce contests like those
already described, their low bellowings reaching the ear like the
hoarse murmurs of the surf on a distant shore.
Far off in the west they descried a range of lofty mountains
printing the clear horizon, some of them evidently capped with
snow. These they supposed to be the Bighorn Mountains, so called
from the animal of that name, with which they abound. They are a
spur of the great Rocky chain. The hill from whence Mr. Hunt had
this prospect was, according to his computation, about two
hundred and fifty miles from the Arickara village.
On returning to the camp, Mr. Hunt found some uneasiness
prevailing among the Canadian voyageurs. In straying among the
thickets they had beheld tracks of grizzly bears in every
direction, doubtless attracted thither by the fruit. To their
dismay, they now found that they had encamped in one of the
favorite resorts of this dreaded animal. The idea marred all the
comfort of the encampment. As night closed, the surrounding
thickets were peopled with terrors; insomuch that, according to
Mr. Hunt, they could not help starting at every little breeze
that stirred the bushes.
The grizzly bear is the only really formidable quadruped of our
continent. He is the favorite theme of the hunters of the far
West, who describe him as equal in size to a common cow and of
prodigious strength. He makes battle if assailed, and often, if
pressed by hunger, is the assailant. If wounded, he becomes
furious and will pursue the hunter. His speed exceeds that of a
man but is inferior to that of a horse. In attacking he rears
himself on his hind legs, and springs the length of his body. Woe
to horse or rider that comes within the sweep of his terrific
claws, which are sometimes nine inches in length, and tear
everything before them.
At the time we are treating of, the grizzly bear was still
frequent on the Missouri and in the lower country, but, like some
of the broken tribes of the prairie, he has gradually fallen back
before his enemies, and is now chiefly to be found in the upland
regions, in rugged fastnesses like those of the Black Hills and
the Rocky Mountains.
