Chapter I (6)

During Mr. Hunt’s absence, several changes had taken place in the wintering camp; some of the men had deserted, others again, under various pretences shook themselves clear of the ill-omened undertaking, and even after Mr. Hunt’s return, several more turned their backs and walked off, without the least compunction, and all those who so unceremoniously and treacherously left the expedition, excepting one, were Americans. Mr. Hunt, in his eagerness to press forward, was perfectly worn out with anxiety.

{179} On the 22d of April, however, the adventurers broke up their camp, or winter quarters, and bent their course up the strong and rapid current of the Missouri, no less formidable in itself, than dangerous on account of the numerous savage hordes that infest its banks.

On the 14th of September the party reached the heights of the Rocky Mountains, safe and in good spirits, after many hairbreadth escapes, and drew near to the Pilot Knobs, or _Trois Tetons_, that great landmark, so singular and conspicuous, near which is the romantic source of Louis River, or the great south branch of the Columbia.[58] From the Nodowa to the Pilot Knobs occupied them one hundred and forty-five days.

The Pilot Knobs, so cheering to our wayfaring friends, proved but the beginning of their real troubles: for, after various projects and plans, it was resolved, on the 18th of October, to abandon their hitherto serviceable and trusty horses, and they were, therefore, turned loose, to the number of one hundred and eighty, and the party embarking in fifteen crazy and frail canoes, undertook to descend the rugged and boiling channels of the head waters of the great south branch of the Columbia. Having proceeded about 350 miles, they were at last compelled to abandon the project of navigating these bold and dangerous waters; but not before one of their best steersmen was drowned, and they were {180} convinced as to the impracticability of proceeding by water.

At this time, two small and separate parties, consisting in all of twelve persons, were fitted out as trappers to hunt the beaver, and, to the astonishment of all, Mr. Miller, in one of his headstrong fits, turned his back on the expedition abruptly, and became a trapper also.

The canoes being now abandoned altogether, various plans were thought of; two or three parties were sent out as scouts, to try and fall in with Indians, provisions being now so scarce that the most gloomy apprehensions were entertained. These parties, however, saw but few Indians, and those few were destitute themselves. At this time a starving dog that could hardly crawl along was a feast to our people, and even the putrid and rotten skins of animals were resorted to in order to sustain life. Whilst these parties were exhausting themselves to little or no purpose, another party attempted to recover the horses, which had been so thoughtlessly and imprudently left behind; but they returned unsuccessful, after a week’s trial and hunger. A fifth party was despatched ahead to explore the river, and they also returned with the most gloomy presage—all failed, and all fell back again on the cheerless camp, to augment the general despondency; the party now, as a last resource, set about depositing and securing the goods and baggage, by putting them in caches’, this done, the party finally separated {181} into four bands, each headed by a partner, and the object of one and all was, to reach the mouth of the Columbia by the best and shortest way. That part of the country where they were was destitute of game, and the provisions of the whole party taken together were scarcely enough for two days’ journey. At that season of the year, the Indians retire to the distant mountains, and leave the river till the return of spring, which accounts for their absence at this time.

We have already stated that one man, named Clappine, had been drowned— another of the name of Prevost had become deranged through starvation, and drowned himself—and a third, named Carrier, lingered behind and perished; these fatal disasters happened in the parties conducted by Messrs. Hunt and Crooks. M‘Kenzie and his party were more fortunate: as soon as the division of the men and property took place, that bold North-Wester called his little band together,—“Now, my friends,” said he, “there is still hope before us; to linger on our way, to return back, or to be discouraged and stand still, is death—a death of all others the most miserable; therefore, take courage; let us persevere and push on ahead, and all will end well; the foremost will find something to eat, the last may fare worse.” On hearing these cheering words, the poor fellows took off their caps, gave three cheers, and at once shot ahead. They kept as near the river as possible, and got on wonderfully well, until they came into the {182} narrow and rugged defiles of the Blue Mountains: there they suffered much, and were at one time five days without a mouthful to eat, when, fortunately, they caught a beaver; and on this small animal and its skin, scarcely a mouthful to each, the whole party had to subsist for three days. At this time some of them were so reduced that M‘Kenzie himself had to carry on his own back two of his men’s blankets, being a strong and robust man, and long accustomed to the hardships and hard fare of the north. He alone, of all the party, stood the trial well; and, by still cheering and encouraging his men on, he brought them at length to the main waters of the Columbia, at Walla Walla, a little below the great forks; from thence they descended with the current to the long-looked-for Astoria, where they arrived safe and sound on the 10th of January, 1812.

Mr. Hunt and the other parties still lingered behind; and from the severe trials and privations which M‘Kenzie, who was reckoned the boldest and most experienced adventurer in the expedition, suffered, fears were entertained as to the safety of the other parties, more particularly as many gloomy reports had reached Astoria; some saying that they had been killed by the Indians, others that they had died of hunger in the mountains; but at last, on the 15th of February, the joyful cry of white men approaching, announced at Astoria the glad tidings of Mr. Hunt’s arrival.

The emaciated, downcast looks and tattered garments {183} of our friends, all bespoke their extreme sufferings during a long and severe winter. To that Being alone who preserveth all those who put their trust in Him, were in this instance due, and at all times, our thanksgiving and gratitude.

{184} CHAPTER XI

Doings at Astoria—Three parties on foot—Their object—M‘Lellan’s
resolution—Hostile attack at the Long Narrows—Mr. Reed—Two Indians
shot—Heroic conduct of M‘Lellan—Difficulties adjusted—Advance of the
party—Remarks—Arrival at Oakinacken—Departure again for Astoria—
Scene at Umatallow—Mr. Crooks’s adventures and suffering—
Yeck-a-tap-am—Umatallow left—Merit rewarded—Arrival of the party at
Astoria—The ship _Beaver_ there also.

As the spring advanced, various resolutions were passed, and preparations made in furtherance of the views of the concern for the current year. In the prosecution of these plans, three parties were set on foot for the interior; one, consisting of three men, under Mr. Reed, for New York, overland; another, under Mr. Farnham, for the goods left _en cache_ by Mr. Hunt on his journey; and a third, to be conducted by Mr. Robert Stuart, for Oakinacken, with supplies for that post.[59]

On the 22nd of March, all these parties, consisting of seventeen men, left Astoria together, under the {185} direction of Mr. Stuart. On the departure of the party, Mr. M‘Lellan, following the example of his colleague, Mr. Miller, abruptly resigned, and joined the party for New York. This gentleman possessed many excellent qualities, but they were all obscured and thrown into the shade by a fickle and unsteady mind.

Everything went on smoothly till the party reached the long narrows; that noted resort of plunderers, where few can pass without paying a heavy tax; but there, while in the act of making the portage, the party being unavoidably divided, they were furiously attacked by a strong party of Indians. Mr. Reed, bearer of the express for New York, was knocked down in the scuffle, and severely wounded; and had not M‘Lellan, with a bravery and presence of mind peculiar to himself, leaped dexterously over a canoe, he would have been felled to the ground; but his agility saved him, and in all probability saved the whole party, for he instantly shot the man who aimed the blow, then drawing a pistol from his belt, shot him who had assailed Reed dead at his feet; then clapping his hand to his mouth, in the true Indian style, he gave the war-whoop, fired his rifle, and the Indians fled. During the critical scuffle, the despatches were carried off by the savages, and a few other articles of but little value. The firing and the war-whoop summoned in a moment all the whites together, and the Indians, being panic-struck at M‘Lellan’s heroic conduct, retired rather disconcerted, {186} giving Mr. Stuart and his party time to collect their property, embark, and depart.

They had not proceeded far, however, when the Indians assembled again in battle array, and taking up a position some distance ahead, appeared determined to dispute the passage. But Mr. Stuart was on the alert, and took up his station on a rock some distance from the shore, and from the savages also; when, after a momentary suspense, and many wild flourishes and threats on the part of the Indians, a parley ensued, and Mr. Stuart had the good fortune to negociate a peace. Six blankets and a few trifling articles satisfied the Indians, or at least they preferred them to the doubtful issue of a second attack. As soon, therefore, as they had received the stipulated oblation for their dead, they retired, and our friends pursued their journey without any further molestation; but for some days and nights after, our party kept a good look-out.

Mr. Stuart, although brave and prudent, erred in attempting to pass the portage in the night; that stealthy proceeding revealed their fears or weakness, and was, in all probability, the cause of the whole disaster. Mr. Reed gradually recovered, but the despatches were lost; so that there was an end to the expedition overland. Mr. Reed and his men therefore accompanied Mr. Stuart, as did Mr. Farnham and the _cache_ party; it not being considered prudent to divide. The party now continued their route together, and arrived safe at Oakinacken on the 24th {187} of April. Here they remained for five days, when the party left for Astoria, in four canoes, carrying off with them 2500 beaver skins. Mr. David Stuart and two of our men accompanied the party down, leaving at Oakinacken only myself, Mr. Donald M‘Gillis, and one man.

On their way down, one morning a little after sunrise, while near the Umatallow River, where a crowd of Indians were assembled together, they were hailed loudly in English to “come on shore.” The canoes instantly closed together, and listened with some anxiety to hear the words repeated. They had no sooner done so than the voice again called out to “come on shore.” To shore the canoes instantly steered; when, to the surprise of all, who should be there, standing like two spectres, but Mr. Crooks and John Day, who, it will be remembered, had been left by Mr. Hunt among the Snake Indians the preceding autumn; but so changed and emaciated were they, that our people for some time could scarcely recognise them to be white men; and we cannot do better here than give their story in their own words. The following is, therefore, Mr. Crooks’s account of their adventures and their sufferings:—

“After being left by Mr. Hunt, we remained for some time with the Snakes,[60] who were very kind to us. When they had anything to eat, we ate also; but they soon departed, and being themselves without provisions, of course they left us without any. {188} We had to provide for ourselves the best way we could. As soon, therefore, as the Indians went off, we collected some brushwood and coarse hay, and made a sort of booth or wigwam to shelter us from the cold; we then collected some firewood; but before we got things in order, John Day grew so weak that when he sat down he could not rise again without help. Following the example of the Indians, I dug up roots for our sustenance; but not knowing how to cook them, we were nearly poisoned. In this plight, we unfortunately let the fire go out, and for a day and night we both lay in a torpid state, unable to strike fire, or to collect dry fuel. We had now been a day without food, or even water to drink, and death appeared inevitable. But Providence is ever kind. Two straggling Indians happening to come our way, relieved us. They made us a fire, got us some water, and gave us something to eat; but seeing some roots we had collected for food lying in a corner, they gave us to understand that they would poison us if we ate them. If we had had a fire, those very roots would have been our first food, for we had nothing else to eat; and who can tell but the hand of a kind and superintending Providence was in all this? These poor fellows staid with us the greater part of two days, and gave us at their departure about two pounds of venison. We were really sorry to lose them.

“On the same day, after the Indians had left us, a very large wolf came prowling about our hut, when {189} John Day, with great exertions and good luck, shot the ferocious animal dead; and to this fortunate hit I think we owed our lives. The flesh of the wolf we cut up and dried, and laid it by for some future emergency, and in the mean time feasted upon the skin; nor did we throw away the bones, but pounded them between stones, and with some roots made a kind of broth, which, in our present circumstances, we found very good. After we had recovered our strength a little, and were able to walk, we betook ourselves to the mountains in search of game; and, when unsuccessful in the chase, we had recourse to our dried wolf. For two months we wandered about, barely sustaining life with our utmost exertions. All this time we kept travelling to and fro, until we happened, by mere chance, to fall on the Umatallow River; and then following it, we made the Columbia about a mile above this place, on the 15th day of April, according to our reckoning. Our clothes being all torn and worn out, we suffered severely from cold; but on reaching this place, the Indians were very kind to us. This man,” pointing to an old grey-headed Indian, called Yeck-a-tap-am, “in particular treated us like a father. After resting ourselves for two days with the good old man and his people, we set off, following the current, in the delusive hope of being able to reach our friends at the mouth of the Columbia, as the Indians gave us to understand that white men had gone down there in the winter, which we supposed must have been Mr. Hunt and his party.

{190} “We had proceeded on our journey nine days, without interruption, and were not far from the falls, which the Indians made us comprehend by uttering the word ‘tumm,’ which we understood to mean noise or fall;[61] when one morning, as we were sitting near the river, gazing on the beautiful stream before us, the Indians in considerable numbers collected around us, in the usual friendly manner: after some little time, however, one of them got up, and, under pretence of measuring the length of my rifle with his bow, took it in his hands; another in the same manner, and at the same moment, took John Day’s rifle from him. The moment our guns were in their possession, the two Indians darted out of the crowd to some distance, and assuming a menacing attitude, pointed them at us; in the same instant, all the others fled from us and joined the two who had carried off our guns. All began to intimate to us by signs, in the most uproarious and wild manner, that some of their people had been killed by the whites, and threatened to kill us in turn. In this critical conjunction, John Day drew his knife, with the intention of rushing upon the fellows to get hold of his gun; but I pointed out to him the folly of such a step, which must have instantly proved fatal to us, and he desisted.

“The Indians then closed in upon us, with guns pointed and bows drawn, on all sides, and by force stripped us of our clothes, ammunition, knives, and everything else, leaving us naked as the day we were {191} born, and, by their movements and gestures, it appeared evident that there was a disposition on their part to kill us; but after a long and angry debate, in which two or three old men seemed to befriend us, they made signs for us to be off: seeing the savages determined, and more of them still collecting, we slowly turned round, and went up the river again, expecting every moment to receive a ball or an arrow. After travelling some little distance, we looked back and saw the savages quarrelling about the division of the booty; but fearing pursuit, we left the river and took to the hills. All that day we travelled without tasting food, and at night concealed ourselves among the rocks—without fire, food, or clothing. Next day we drew near to the river, and picked up some fishbones at a deserted Indian encampment; with these we returned to the rocks again, and pounding them with stones, tried to eat a little, but could not manage to swallow any: that night also we hid ourselves among the rocks, but at last we resolved to keep by the river, and, as it seemed impossible to avoid death, either by the Indians or starvation, to brave all dangers in the attempt to reach our good old friend Yeck-a-tap-am—and Providence still guarded us.

“Soon after we arrived at the river, we unexpectedly fell on a small Indian hut, with only two old people and a child in it: we approached with hesitating and doubtful steps, but on entering the solitary wigwam, the poor inmates were more {192} frightened than ourselves; and, had they had timely notice of our approach, they would have certainly fled. The good people, however, gave us fish, broth, and roots to eat; and this was the first food we had tasted, and the first fire we had seen, for four days and four nights. Our feet were severely cut and bleeding, for want of shoes; yet we lost no time, but set off, and arrived here three days ago, and our good old friend, Yeck-a-tap-am, received us again with open arms, and gave us these skins to cover our nakedness, as ye now see.

“The good old man then killed a horse, which his people cut up and dried for us, and with that supply we had resolved to set out this very day and retrace our steps back again to St. Louis overland, and when you came in sight we were just in the act of tying up our little bundles; regretting, most of all, that we had no means of recompensing our good and faithful friend Yeck-a-tap-am.”

Mr. Crooks having concluded his narrative, Mr. Stuart called the old man to him, and clothed him from head to foot for his friendly services. Mr. Crooks and his fellow-sufferer then cordially shaking hands with Yeck-a-tap-am, the party pushed off, and continued their voyage. On arriving at the place where Crooks had been robbed, the party put on shore; but the Indians, having notice of their approach, fled to the interior; so that they had no opportunity of either recovering the guns or inquiring into the affair.

{193} From the long narrows the party met with no interruption, but continued their route till they reached Astoria, on the 12th of May, where Crooks and all the party were greeted with a hearty welcome; and what made the meeting more joyous was the safe arrival, three days previous, of the Company’s ship _Beaver_ from New York, with a supply of goods, and a reinforcement of men.

{194} CHAPTER XII

General meeting of the partners—Resolutions passed—Departure of the
parties for the interior—Mr. Clarke—The cascades—Wyampam, or the
Long Narrows—Situation of the party—Loss of time—Mr. M‘Kenzie—A
stroll through the Indian camp—Mr. Clarke’s alarms—Command
transferred—Reed’s rifle recovered—A robber in irons—The five shots—
Yeck-a-tap-am rewarded—Mr. Stuart’s departure for St. Louis—Second
division—Summer trip to She Whaps—Boullard and his squaw—Mr.
Stuart’s arrival at Oakinacken—Departure for She Whaps—Winter
operations at Oakinacken—Visits—Travelling scenes—A night in the
snow—Jacque and his powder-horn—Mr. Stuart’s account of his journey—
Arrival at Walla Walla.

All parties being now at their posts, for the first time a meeting of the partners was convened, at which the following resolutions, among others, were passed—“That Mr. David Stuart proceed to his post at Oakinacken, explore the country northward, and establish another post between that and New Caledonia:[62] That Mr. M‘Kenzie winter on the Snake country; recover the goods left in _cache_ there by Mr. Hunt; and report on the state of the country: That Mr. Clarke[63] winter at Spokane, as an intermediate {195} post, between Mr. Stuart on the north and Mr. M‘Kenzie on the south, in order to oppose and keep in check the North-West Company established there: That Mr. Robert Stuart proceed to St. Louis across land, with despatches for Mr. Astor.[64] That all these several parties, for mutual safety, advance together as far as the forks, or entrance of the great south branch.” It was likewise settled at this council, “That Mr. Hunt should accompany the ship _Beaver_ to the Russian settlements on his coasting trip.” These preparatory steps being taken, the several parties, numbering sixty-two persons, left Astoria for the interior on the 29th of June.

This was the first formidable and regular party that left Astoria, which seemed to impart to the concern a character of permanency and success, and was conducted by Mr. Clarke, the brightest star in the Columbian constellation, as Mr. Astor expressed himself—for to him, by mutual consent, was conceded the important command.

On their progress, no interruption impeded the party till they reached the cascades, where the Indians were rather troublesome, and shot a few arrows at the canoes as they passed; but on the party landing all was submission; the portage was made; and the party advanced at a rapid rate till they reached the long narrows: that intricate and gloomy pass is constantly infested with gambling Indians of the vilest character.

Here, as usual, the thievish subjects of Wyampam assembled in numbers, and showed a formidable and {196} determined front. To one used to their gasconading threats, there was nothing in all this to intimidate; but to Mr. Clarke, although a man of nerve on most occasions, the sight was overwhelming. He stood appalled, and almost speechless. In short, he looked upon all as irretrievably lost. To advance, to retreat, or to stand still with safety, seemed to him equally hopeless. Guards and patrols were stationed round the tempting bales of goods, and days and nights wasted in useless harangues and parleys, without result. Mr. Clarke’s lofty tent, pitched in the centre of the arena, as a beacon on the top of a hill shining afar, was guarded on every side by trusty Sandwich Islanders; while the rest, forming the circumvallation, had to protect all within. This state of things continued for several days and nights, until Mr. M‘Kenzie and Mr. David Stuart, taking a voluntary stroll for upwards of two miles through the Indian camp, proved by their safe return that the alarm and fears of Mr. Clarke were utterly groundless, and urged him to press forward, as every moment’s delay only increased the danger.

Mr. Clarke, however, viewed their situation as desperate, and the thought of advancing as utterly hopeless. Mr. M‘Kenzie then told him that he could wait no longer, but would proceed with his own party alone; Mr. Stuart said the same. To this threat, Mr. Clarke replied, that if they could pass he could pass also, but would not answer for the consequences. Mr. M‘Kenzie replied that he would {197} answer for them, and therefore took upon himself the command, and immediately ordered the tents to be struck and the party to advance. The party advanced accordingly, and by adopting judicious arrangements got through the suspicious pass without molestation or loss.

Before we proceed further, however, we may here mention that whilst M‘Kenzie and Stuart were on their ramble through the Indian camp, they saw in a corner of one of the chief’s lodges the rifle which had been taken from Mr. Reed when he was wounded, and they were resolved at all hazards to recover it.

As soon, therefore, as all were safe above the narrows, M‘Kenzie took eight men, well armed, with him, and went direct to the chief’s lodge; then stationing four of his men at the door, he, himself, went in with the other four, and demanded the stolen rifle; but the chief denied that he had it, or that it was in his lodge. Mr. M‘Kenzie, however, insisted that it was there, and said he was determined to have it; and seeing that fair means would not avail he drew his dagger, and began to turn over and cut up everything that came in his way, until at last the rifle was discovered, when M‘Kenzie upbraided the chief for falsehood and dishonesty, took the rifle, and with his party made for the door of the lodge. The Indians were now assembling together in crowds; but before they had time to decide on any step, M‘Kenzie and his men were out of their reach, {198} carrying the rifle with them. The business was well timed, for had they delayed some minutes longer in the lodge, it is hard to say what the consequences might have been. Early in the morning our party proceeded on their journey; passed the falls, and encamped for the night near the spot where Mr. Crooks and John Day had been robbed on their forlorn adventures down the river.

The Indians, however, flocked round our party as if nothing had happened, and among the rest the ruffian who took John Day’s rifle was recognised. He was immediately laid hold of and secured in one of the canoes. Mr. Crooks’s rifle was alone recovered. Some were for hanging the offender, others were for cutting his ears off; but after keeping him a prisoner for two days, he was set at liberty without any further punishment; and, under all circumstances, that was perhaps the wisest course. Before he went off, however, Mr. M‘Lellan, to show him the effect of fire-arms in the hands of the whites, set up a piece of board, with a white spot on it, only two inches in diameter, and in three successive shots, at a hundred yards distance, with his rifle he pierced the bull’s eye; then stopping up the holes of two of the shots, put a hazel-nut in the third, and broke it with two successive shots at the same distance.

On passing the Umatallow, Yeck-a-tap-am was not forgotten, Mr. Crooks giving him a chief’s coat in return for the kindness shown to the latter while in distress.

{199} On the 29th of July, all the parties arrived safe at Walla Walla; here they were to separate, and here it was that Mr. Robert Stuart, after staying for two days with Tummeatapam, and purchasing ten horses, the number requisite for his journey overland, took his departure for St. Louis. The party consisted of Mr. Stuart, Benjamin Jones, Andrè Vallar, Francis Le Clerc, and Mr. Crooks and Mr. M‘Lellan. The two latter gentlemen relinquished all connection with the concern, and joined the party for St. Louis. This little, bold, and courageous party bade adieu to their associates, and commenced their perilous undertaking on the 31st of July. In the mean time, the main party struck off at the forks, leaving M‘Kenzie and Clarke on their way up the Snake River, or south branch, to their respective destinations. We shall, for the present, accompany Mr. David Stuart to his wintering ground, and back again to this place, where the parties agreed to meet in the following June. The histories of the other parties shall be recounted hereafter, each in its proper place.

From the forks, Mr. Stuart and his party, ascending the north branch, continued their voyage, and arrived at Oakinacken on the 12th of August. Here it will be remembered that when the party left this on the 28th of April for Astoria, I remained at Oakinacken, having only Mr. M‘Gillis and one man, named Boullard, with me. On the 6th of May I started with Boullard and an Indian, with sixteen horses, on a trading excursion, and following Mr. {200} Stuart’s route of last winter, reached the She Whaps on Thompson’s River, the tenth day, and there encamped at a place called by the Indians Cumcloups, near the entrance of the north branch.[65] From this station I sent messages to the different tribes around, who soon assembled, bringing with them their furs. Here we stayed for ten days. The number of Indians collected on the occasion could not have been less than 2,000. Not expecting to see so many, I had taken but a small quantity of goods with me; nevertheless, we loaded all our horses— so anxious were they to trade, and so fond of tobacco, that one morning before breakfast I obtained one hundred and ten beavers for leaf tobacco, at the rate of five leaves per skin; and at last, when I had but one yard of white cotton remaining, one of the chiefs gave me twenty prime beaver skins for it.

Having now finished our trade, we prepared to return home; but before we could get our odds-and-ends ready, Boullard, my trusty second, got involved in a love affair, which had nearly involved us all in a disagreeable scrape with the Indians. This was the very man Mr. Stuart got from Mr. Thompson in exchange for Cox, the Owhyhee. He was as full of latent tricks as a serpent is of guile. Unknown to me, the old fellow had been teasing the Indians for a wife, and had already an old squaw at his heels, but could not raise the wind to pay the whole purchase-money. With an air of effrontery he asked me to unload one of my horses to satisfy the demands of the {201} old father-in-law, and because I refused him, he threatened to leave me and to remain with the savages. Provoked at his conduct, I suddenly turned round and horsewhipped the fellow, and, fortunately, the Indians did not interfere. The castigation had a good effect: it brought the amorous gallant to his senses—the squaw was left behind. We started; but were frequently impeded on our journey by the sudden rise of the rivers. As we were often obliged to swim our horses, our packs of beaver got now and then wet, but without sustaining any serious injury; and on the 12th of July we reached home, well pleased both with our trade and the reception we had met with from the Indians. On this trip we had frequent opportunities of paying attention to the aspect and topography of the country through which we passed.

On the 25th of August, Mr. Stuart, with his men and merchandise, left Oakinacken to winter among the She Whaps, appointing me, as a recompense for my successful voyage to Cumcloups, to the post of Oakinacken. Although not hitherto formally appointed, I had virtually been in charge of it since its first establishment. Having escorted Mr. Stuart for seventy miles, I returned to prepare my own post for the winter operations. After spending all the autumn in trading excursions, according to the custom of the country, I resolved on the 2nd of December to pay a visit to Mr. John Clarke, at Fort Spokane, which place we reached on the fourth day.[66] Spokane lies {202} due east from Oakinacken—distant about 150 miles. The face of the country is rocky and barren.

I had never seen Mr. Clarke before; but certainly a more affable, generous, and kind gentleman in his own house could not be met with.

During the three days I remained with him, I had frequent opportunities of observing the sly and underhand dealings of the competing parties, for the opposition posts of the North-West Company and Mr. Clarke were built contiguous to each other. When the two parties happened to meet, they made the amplest protestations of friendship and kindness, and a stranger, unacquainted with the politics of Indian trade, would have pronounced them sincere; but the moment their backs were turned, they tore each other to pieces. Each party had its manœuvreing scouts out in all directions, watching the motions of the Indians, and laying plots and plans to entrap or foil each other. He that got most skins, never minding the cost of the crime, was the cleverest fellow; and under such tutors the Indians were apt disciples. They played their tricks also, and turned the foibles and wiles of their teachers to their own advantage.

Leaving Spokane Fort, we turned towards home again. In the evening of the 13th, not far from home, as we were ascending a very steep hill, at the top of which is a vast plain, I and my man had to walk, leaving our horses to shift for themselves, and climb up as they could; and so steep and intricate {203} were the windings that I had to throw off my coat, which, together with my gun, I laid on one of the pack-horses. The moment we reached the top, and before we could gather our horses or look about us, we were overtaken by a tremendous cold snowstorm; the sun became instantly obscured, and the wind blew a hurricane. We were taken by surprise. I immediately called out to the men to shift for themselves, and let the horses do the same. Just at this moment I accidentally came in contact with one of the loaded horses, for such was the darkness that we could not see three feet ahead; but, unfortunately, it was not the horse on which I had laid my coat and gun. I instantly cut the tyings, threw off the load, and mounting on the pack-saddle, rode off at full speed through the deep snow, in the hopes of reaching a well-known place of shelter not far off; but in the darkness and confusion I missed the place, and at last got so benumbed with cold that I could ride no farther; and, besides, my horse was almost exhausted. In this plight I dismounted and took to walking, in order to warm myself. But no place of shelter was to be found. Night came on; the storm increased in violence; my horse gave up; and I myself was so exhausted, wandering through the deep snow, that I could go no further. Here I halted, unable to decide what to do. My situation appeared desperate: without my coat; without my gun; without even a fire-steel. In such a situation I must perish. At {204} last I resolved on digging a hole in the snow; but in trying to do so, I was several times in danger of being suffocated with the drift and eddy. In this dilemma I unsaddled my horse, which stood motionless as a statue in the snow. I put the saddle under me, and the saddle-cloth, about the size of a handkerchief, round my shoulders, then squatted down in the dismal hole, more likely to prove my grave than a shelter. On entering the hole I said to myself, “Keep awake and live; sleep and die.” I had not been long, however, in this dismal burrow before the cold, notwithstanding my utmost exertions to keep my feet warm, gained so fast upon me that I was obliged to take off my shoes, then pull my trousers, by little and little, over my feet, till at last I had the waistband round my toes; and all would not do. I was now reduced to the last shift, and tried to keep my feet warm at the risk of freezing my body. At last I had scarcely strength to move a limb; the cold was gaining fast upon me; and the inclination to sleep almost overcame me. In this condition I passed the whole night; nor did the morning promise me much relief; yet I thought it offered me a glimpse of hope, and that hope induced me to endeavour to break out of my snowy prison. I tried, but in vain, to put on my frozen shoes; I tried again and again before I could succeed. I then dug my saddle out of the snow, and after repeated efforts, reached the horse and put the saddle on; but could not myself get into the saddle. {205} Ten o’clock next day came before there was any abatement of the storm, and when it did clear up a little I knew not where I was; still it was cheering to see the storm abate. I tried again to get into the saddle; and when I at last succeeded, my half-frozen horse refused to carry me, for he could scarcely lift a leg. I then alighted and tried to walk; but the storm broke out again with redoubled violence. I saw no hope of saving myself but to kill the horse, open him, and get into his body, and I drew my hunting-knife for the purpose; but then it occurred to me that the body would freeze, and that I could not, in that case, extricate myself. I therefore abandoned the idea, laid my knife by, and tried again to walk, and again got into the saddle. The storm now abating a little, my horse began to move; and I kept wandering about through the snow till three o’clock in the afternoon, when the storm abated altogether; and the sun coming out, I recognised my position. I was then not two miles from my own house, where I arrived at dusk; and it was high time, for I could not have gone much farther; and after all it was my poor horse that saved me, for had I set out on foot, I should never, in my exhausted condition, have reached the house.

How my men weathered the storm we shall presently see. Two of them got home a little before myself, but much frost-bitten. The other two had not made their appearance yet; but some Indians were instantly despatched in search of them; and {206} one was found that night; the other not till the next day. He was carried home almost in a dying state, but ultimately recovered. One of the horses was found dead; all the rest were recovered, but the load which I had thrown off the horse which I rode was totally destroyed by the wolves. Such a destructive storm had not been felt in these parts for many years previous. An Indian, with his whole family, consisting of seven persons, perished by it; two more were severely frost-bitten, and more than twenty horses were lost.

On the 20th of December, just six days after my return from Spokane, I set out with one man on a visit to Mr. Stuart, at the She Whaps, and arrived at Cumcloups on the last day of the year; soon after, Mr. Stuart reached his wintering place. The North-West, jealous of that quarter, followed hard at his heels, and built alongside of him. So that there was opposition there as well as at Mr. Clarke’s place, but without the trickery and manœuvring. M. La Rocque, the North-West clerk in charge,[67] and Mr. Stuart, were open and candid, and on friendly terms. The field before them was wide enough for both parties, and, what is more, they thought it so; consequently they followed a fair and straightforward course of trade; with Mr. Stuart I remained five days, and in coming home I took a near and unknown route, in order to explore a part of the country I had not seen before; but I chose a bad season of the year to satisfy my curiosity: we got {207} bewildered in the mountains and deep snows, our progress was exceedingly slow, tedious, and discouraging. We were at one time five days in making as many miles, our horses suffered greatly, had nothing to eat for four days and four nights, not a blade of grass appearing above the snow, and their feet were so frightfully cut with the crust on the snow that they could scarcely move, so that we were within a hair’s breadth of losing every one of them.

One evening, the fuel being damp, we were unable to kindle a brisk fire. In this predicament, I called on Jacques to give me a little powder, a customary thing in such cases; but in place of handing me a little powder, or taking a little out in his hand, wise Jacques, uncorking his horn, began to pour it out on the heated coal. It instantly exploded, and blew all up before it, sending Jacques himself sprawling six feet from where he stood, and myself nearly as far, both for some time stunned and senseless, while the fire was completely extinguished.

We, however, received no injury beyond the fright, though Jacques held the horn in his hand when it was blown to atoms. On recovering, we were not in the best humour, and sat down for some time in gloomy mood; cold, however, soon admonished us to try again; but it was midnight before we could get a fire lighted and ourselves warmed, and we passed a disagreeable night without sleep or food. We hastened next morning from this unlucky encampment, {208} and getting clear of the mountains, we descended into a low and pleasant valley, where we found the Indians I had been in search of, and something both for ourselves and our horses to eat. At the Indian camp we remained one day, got the information we required about the country, procured some furs, and then, following the course of the Sa-milk-a-meigh River,[68] got to Oakinacken at the forks; thence we travelled almost day and night till the 24th of January, when we reached home again. On this journey we met with several cross purposes, and suffered a good deal from both cold and hunger, so that I got heartily tired of visiting. During my absence, Mr. M‘Gillis managed matters at the post very well. Several other trading trips took place in the course of the spring, and these, with the ordinary routine business of the place, kept our hands full till the hour of embarkation arrived. In the course of the last year I had travelled in various directions through the country, 3,355 miles.

On the 13th of May, Mr. Stuart, with his men and furs, arrived from the She Whaps. In reference to his post, he remarked, “I have passed a winter nowise unpleasant, the opposition, it is true, gave me a good deal of anxiety when it first arrived, but we agreed very well, and made as much, perhaps more, than if we had been enemies. I sent out parties in all directions, north as far as Fraser’s River, and for two hundred miles up the south branch. The accounts from all quarters were most satisfactory. {209} The country is everywhere rich in furs, and the natives very peaceable. The She Whaps will be one of the best beaver posts in the country, and I have now brought a fine stock of valuable furs with me.”

After remaining at Oakinacken for ten days, to get the furs packed and pressed, Mr. Stuart and myself, with the men and furs, set out for Walla Walla, the place of general rendezvous settled upon last summer, where we arrived on the 30th of May; the other parties not having yet come in.

{210} CHAPTER XIII

Mr. Clarke—Stragglers—Hard travelling—Cox’s pilgrimage—Visit to
Spokane—Trade—Mr. Pillet—Mr. Farnham—Cootanais and Flatheads—
M‘Lennan—Plunge in the lake—Adventures—Outposts—Catatouch chief—
Curiosity—Fracas—Introduction of civilization—Commotion—M‘Kenzie—
Great Snake River—Caches robbed—Canadian wanderers—Character of the
Shahaptains—Visit to Spokane—M‘Tavish—Account of the war—Winter
travels—M‘Kenzie at Astoria—New resolves—M‘Kenzie’s return to his
post—Indian chiefs—Bold enterprize—Property recovered—Chiefs and
their horses—Stratagems—Indians outwitted—Plotting—Friendly Island—
Conference—Marauding propensities—Treaty of peace—System changed—
Plentiful market—The island abandoned—Arrival at Walla Walla—
Commotions among the savages—Tummeatapam—Arrival at Astoria.

We now come to the history of Mr. Clarke and his party, whom we left at the forks in August last, on his way to his winter quarters at Spokane. Having proceeded up the South-branch, or Louis River, for about fifty miles, he reached the Catatouch band, at the mouth of the Pavilion River.[69] The Catatouches are a small and friendly tribe of the great Nez Percé nations, and the lowest of them on the South-branch.[70] This spot terminated Mr. Clarke’s voyage by water. From thence his route lay across land to the Spokane River, distant {211} about 170 miles. Leaving his canoes under the care of the friendly Catatouch chief, he purchased horses from the Indians for the transportation of his goods.

Mr. Clarke had four clerks with him, Messrs. Pillet, Farnham, M‘Lennan, and Cox. He had also more men and merchandize than any of the other parties, as it was supposed he would have most to do in opposing a formidable opposition.

Having purchased a sufficient number of horses, he left the Pavilion on the 10th of August, and set out on his journey by land. He had not proceeded far, however, when he got into some little difficulties with his people. They had started together; but before they had been two hours on the march, some of them lagged so far behind that the motley cavalcade outstretched a mile in length; while Mr. Clarke, like a general at the head of an army, had to keep riding backwards and forwards to keep together the broken line of stragglers, the greater part of whom being on foot, and having to keep up with horses, over a barren and sandy plain, in the hot and sultry weather of a Columbia summer, had a task too severe, perhaps, even for the best travellers.

The most refractory of the rear-guard was Mr. Cox—the little Irishman, as he was generally called.[71] Mr. Clarke riding back ordered him, in an angry tone, to quicken his steps. “Give me a horse,” said Cox, “and I’ll ride with yourself at the head.” At this reply Mr. Clarke raised his whip—some say he {212} put his threats in execution—and then rode off. Be that as it may, Cox slunk off and took to the mountains; the party moved on, and Cox remained behind. The sixth day the party arrived at Spokane. Indians were then sent out in all directions; but it was the seventh day after the party had reached its destination before Cox made his appearance. The Indians had picked him up in a most destitute and forlorn condition on the thirteenth day of his wayward pilgrimage; his clothes all torn, his feet bare, and his belly empty. When I was there in the winter, Cox had hardly recovered yet. Mr. Clarke’s mode of trading might do for a bourgeois; but it was not fit for a clerk. What was considered moderate at Spokane would be denounced as exorbitant at Oakinacken. Mr. Clarke was extravagant; but to be called by the Indians a generous chief was his greatest glory.

Mr. Clarke established himself at the corner of the opposition post; and being formerly a North-Wester himself, he was up to the rigs of his opponents. The Indians were assembled, long speeches were made, and mighty things were promised on both sides, but never fulfilled. As soon as Mr. Clarke had got himself and property under shelter, following the North-West system, he gave a grand ball to his men, and appointed three or four of the most conceited and blustering fellows in his party to be a guard, such as the Sioux and other savage nations employ as instruments of tyranny {213} in the hands of despotic chiefs. These fellows wore feathers in their caps, the insignia of their office. To challenge, fight, and bully their opponents, stand at the heels of their bourgeois, to be ready at a wink to do whatever he commands them, is their duty; and they understand it well. All these preliminary steps being taken, Mr. Clarke set about establishing outposts, to compete with his opponents and keep them in check.

Mr. Pillet, with some men and a supply of goods, was sent to the Cootanais to oppose Mr. Mantour on the part of the North-West.[72] Mr. Pillet travelled a great deal, and turned his time to good account. Both were zealous traders, and they could fight a duel as well as buy a skin, for they carried pistols as well as goods along with them. They therefore fought and traded alternately, but always spared the thread of life, and in the spring parted good friends.

Mr. Farnham was fitted out for the Selish, or Flathead tribe[73]—crossed with them the Rocky Mountains—visited the head waters of the Missouri— saw much of the country, and made a good trade. Farnham was a bustling, active, and enterprizing fellow.

Both the Cootanais[74] and Selish tribes live and range along the foot of the mountains, often crossing them, and have frequent encounters with the Blackfeet, by whom they have suffered greatly of late years; the Blackfeet being too numerous for them.[75]

{214} Mr. M‘Lennan was stationed at the Pointed Hearts, or Sketch-hugh Lake.[76] In going to his destination, he was rather unlucky, for his canoe upset in crossing the lake, and swamped his goods; but he swam like a fish, got the two men he had with him into the canoe again, then kept diving like a seal, although the weather was cold and the water deep, till he recovered the most of his property: his exertions on this occasion astonished every one who knew the difficulties of the task. M‘Lennan was hardy as steel, and bold as a lion: he made a very good and a very cheap trade, and was altogether a favourite among the Indians.

Spring now drawing nigh, Mr. Clarke got in all his outposts and scouts, and left Spokane, with thirty-two horses loaded with furs, on the 25th of May: a confidential man, named Pion, a newly-promoted clerk, with three men, was left in charge of the post. The party performed the journey across land to the Pavilion in six days, and found the canoes, which had been left there in charge of the Catatouch chief, all safe.

The most trivial incidents sometimes prove instructive, and may in their consequences afford an important lesson. As soon as Mr. Clarke arrived at the Pavilion, and found his canoes safe, pleased at the conduct of the chief, he made him a present of some ammunition and tobacco; this done, they set about packing up the different articles in order to embark, and among others two silver goblets {215} belonging to Mr. Clarke himself, who took this opportunity of showing them to the chief, and expatiated on their high value; then pouring a little wine into one of them made the chief drink out of it, telling him when done that he was a greater man now than ever he was before. The chief was delighted, and turning the goblet over and over in his hands, and looking at it with intense interest, handed it over to the next great man, and he to another, and so on till, like the pipe of peace, it had gone round the whole circle. The precious curiosity was then laid by, and the Indians retired.