These Matters Being All
Arranged, Mr. Miller Set Out With His Companions, Under Guidance
Of The Two Snakes, On The 10th Of October; And Much Did It Grieve
The Friends Of That Gentleman To See Him Thus Wantonly Casting
Himself Loose Upon Savage Life.
How he and his comrades fared in
the wilderness, and how the Snakes acquitted themselves of their
trust respecting the horses, will hereafter appear in the course
of these rambling anecdotes.
CHAPTER XXXII.
Scanty Fare.- A Mendicant Snake.- Embarkation on Henry River- Joy
of the Voyageurs.-Arrival at Snake River.- Rapids and Breakers. -
Beginning of Misfortunes.- Snake Encampments.- Parley With a
Savage.- A Second Disaster. - Loss of a Boatman.- The Caldron
Linn.
WHILE the canoes were in preparation, the hunters ranged about
the neighborhood, but with little success. Tracks of buffaloes
were to be seen in all directions, but none of a fresh date.
There were some elk, but extremely wild; two only were killed.
Antelopes were likewise seen, but too shy and fleet to be
approached. A few beavers were taken every night, and salmon
trout of a small size, so that the camp had principally to
subsist upon dried buffalo meat.
On the 14th, a poor, half-naked Snake Indian, one of that forlorn
caste called the Shuckers, or Diggers, made his appearance at the
camp. He came from some lurking-place among the rocks and cliffs,
and presented a picture of that famishing wretchedness to which
these lonely fugitives among the mountains are sometimes reduced.
Having received wherewithal to allay his hunger, he disappeared,
but in the course of a day or two returned to the camp, bringing
with him his son, a miserable boy, still more naked and forlorn
than himself. Food was given to both; they skulked about the camp
like hungry hounds, seeking what they might devour, and having
gathered up the feet and entrails of some beavers that were lying
about, slunk off with them to their den among the rocks.
By the 18th of October, fifteen canoes were completed, and on the
following day the party embarked with their effects; leaving
their horses grazing about the banks, and trusting to the honesty
of the two Snakes, and some special turn of good luck for their
future recovery.
The current bore them along at a rapid rate; the light spirits of
the Canadian voyageurs, which had occasionally flagged upon land,
rose to their accustomed buoyancy on finding themselves again
upon the water. They wielded their paddles with their wonted
dexterity, and for the first time made the mountains echo with
their favorite boat songs.
In the course of the day the little squadron arrived at the
confluence of Henry and Mad Rivers, which, thus united, swelled
into a beautiful stream of a light pea-green color, navigable for
boats of any size, and which, from the place of junction, took
the name of Snake River, a stream doomed to be the scene of much
disaster to the travellers. The banks were here and there fringed
with willow thickets and small cotton-wood trees. The weather was
cold, and it snowed all day, and great flocks of ducks and geese,
sporting in the water or streaming through the air, gave token
that winter was at hand; yet the hearts of the travellers were
light, and, as they glided down the little river, they flattered
themselves with the hope of soon reaching the Columbia. After
making thirty miles in a southerly direction, they encamped for
the night in a neighborhood which required some little vigilance,
as there were recent traces of grizzly bears among the thickets.
On the following day the river increased in width and beauty;
flowing parallel to a range of mountains on the left, which at
times were finely reflected in its light green waters. The three
snowy summits of the Pilot Knobs or Tetons were still seen
towering in the distance. After pursuing a swift but placid
course for twenty miles, the current began to foam and brawl, and
assume the wild and broken character common to the streams west
of the Rocky Mountains. In fact the rivers which flow from those
mountains to the Pacific are essentially different from those
which traverse the prairies on their eastern declivities. The
latter, though sometimes boisterous, are generally free from
obstructions, and easily navigated; but the rivers to the west of
the mountains descend more steeply and impetuously, and are
continually liable to cascades and rapids. The latter abounded in
the part of the river which the travellers were now descending.
Two of the canoes filled among the breakers; the crews were
saved, but much of the lading was lost or damaged, and one of the
canoes drifted down the stream and was broken among the rocks.
On the following day, October 21st, they made but a short
distance when they came to a dangerous strait, where the river
was compressed for nearly half a mile between perpendicular
rocks, reducing it to the width of twenty yards, and increasing
its violence. Here they were obliged to pass the canoes down
cautiously by a line from the impending banks. This consumed a
great part of a day; and after they had reembarked they were soon
again impeded by rapids, when they had to unload their canoes and
carry them and their cargoes for some distance by land. It is at
these places, called "portages," that the Canadian voyageur
exhibits his most valuable qualities; carrying heavy burdens, and
toiling to and fro, on land and in the water, over rocks and
precipices, among brakes and brambles, not only without a murmur,
but with the greatest cheerfulness and alacrity, joking and
laughing and singing scraps of old French ditties.
The spirits of the party, however, which had been elated on first
varying their journeying from land to water, had now lost some of
their buoyancy. Everything ahead was wrapped in uncertainty. They
knew nothing of the river on which they were floating.
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