Oregon and Eldorado; or, Romance of the Rivers

CHAPTER XI.

CLARKE'S RIVER

AUG. 31. – Capt. Lewis, during the absence of his brother-officer, had succeeded in procuring from the Indians, by barter, twenty-nine horses, – not quite one for each man. Capt. Clarke having now rejoined us, and the weather being fine, we loaded our horses, and prepared to start. We took our leave of the Shoshonees, and accompanied by the old guide, his four sons, and another Indian, began the descent of the river, which Capt. Clarke had named Lewis's River. After riding twelve miles, we encamped on the bank; and, as the hunters had brought in three deer early in the morning, we did not feel in want of provisions.

On the 31st of August, we made eighteen miles. Here we left the track of Capt. Clarke, and began to explore the new route recommended by the Indian guide, and which was our last hope of getting out of the mountains.

During all day, we rode over hills, from which are many drains and small streams, and, at the distance of eighteen miles, came to a large creek, called Fish Creek, emptying into the main river, which is about six miles from us.

Sept. 2. – This morning, all the Indians left us, except the old guide, who now conducted us up Fish Creek. We arrived shortly after at the forks of the creek. The road we were following now turned in a contrary direction to our course, and we were left without any track; but, as no time was to be lost, we began to cut our road up the west branch of the creek. This we effected with much difficulty. The thickets of trees and brush through which we were obliged to cut our way required great labor. Our course was over the steep and rocky sides of the hills, where the horses could not move without danger of slipping down, while their feet were bruised by the rocks, and stumps of trees. Accustomed as these animals were to this kind of life, they suffered severely. Several of them fell to some distance down the sides of the hills, some turned over with the baggage, one was crippled, and two gave out exhausted with fatigue. After crossing the creek several times, we had made five miles with great labor, and encamped in a small, stony, low ground. It was not, however, till after dark that the whole party was collected; and then, as it rained, and we killed nothing, we passed an uncomfortable night. We had been too busily occupied with the horses to make any hunting excursion; and, though we saw many beaver-dams in the creek, we saw none of the animals.

Next day, our experiences were much the same, with the addition of a fall of snow at evening. The day following, we reached the head of a stream which directed its course more to the westward, and followed it till we discovered a large encampment of Indians. When we reached them, and alighted from our horses, we were received with great cordiality. A council was immediately assembled, white robes were thrown over our shoulders, and the pipe of peace introduced. After this ceremony, as it was too late to go any farther, we encamped, and continued smoking and conversing with the chiefs till a late hour.

Next morning, we assembled the chiefs and warriors, and informed them who we were, and the purpose for which we visited their country. All this was, however, conveyed to them in so many different languages, that it was not comprehended without difficulty. We therefore proceeded to the more intelligible language of presents, and made four chiefs by giving a medal and a small quantity of tobacco to each. We received in turn, from the principal chiefs, a present, consisting of the skins of an otter and two antelopes; and were treated by the women to some dried roots and berries. We then began to traffic for horses, and succeeded in exchanging seven, and purchasing eleven.

These Indians are a band of the Tushepaws, a numerous people of four hundred and fifty tents, residing on the head waters of the Missouri and Columbia Rivers, and some of them lower down the latter river. They seemed kind and friendly, and willingly shared with us berries and roots, which formed their only stock of provisions. Their only wealth is their horses, which are very fine, and so numerous that this band had with them at least five hundred.

We proceeded next day, and, taking a north-west direction, crossed, within a distance of a mile and a half, a small river from the right. This river is the main stream; and, when it reaches the end of the valley, it is joined by two other streams. To the river thus formed we gave the name of Clarke's River; he being the first white man who ever visited its waters.

We followed the course of the river, which is from twenty-five to thirty yards wide, shallow, and stony, with the low grounds on its borders narrow; and encamped on its right bank, after making ten miles. Our stock of flour was now exhausted, and we had but little corn; and, as our hunters had killed nothing except two pheasants, our supper consisted chiefly of berries.

The next day, and the next, we followed the river, which widened to fifty yards, with a valley four or five miles broad. At ten miles from our camp was a creek, which emptied itself on the west side of the river. It was a fine bold creek of clear water, about twenty yards wide; and we called it Traveller's Rest: for, as our guide told us we should here leave the river, we determined to make some stay for the purpose of collecting food, as the country through which we were to pass has no game for a great distance.

Toward evening, one of the hunters returned with three Indians whom he had met. We found that they were Tushepaw Flatheads in pursuit of strayed horses. We gave them some boiled venison and a few presents, such as a fish hook, a steel to strike fire, and a little powder; but they seemed better pleased with a piece of ribbon which we tied in the hair of each of them. Their people, they said, were numerous, and resided on the great river in the plain below the mountains. From that place, they added, the river was navigable to the ocean. The distance from this place is five "sleeps," or days' journeys.

On resuming our route, we proceeded up the right side of the creek (thus leaving Clarke's River), over a country, which, at first plain and good, became afterwards as difficult as any we had yet traversed.

We had now reached the sources of Traveller's-rest Creek, and followed the road, which became less rugged. At our encampment this night, the game having entirely failed us, we killed a colt, on which we made a hearty supper. We reached the river, which is here eighty yards wide, with a swift current and a rocky channel. Its Indian name is Kooskooskee.

KOOSKOOSKEE RIVER

Sept. 16. – This morning, snow fell, and continued all day; so that by evening it was six or eight inches deep. It covered the track so completely, that we were obliged constantly to halt and examine, lest we should lose the route. The road is, like that of yesterday, along steep hillsides, obstructed with fallen timber, and a growth of eight different species of pine, so thickly strewed, that the snow falls from them upon us as we pass, keeping us continually wet to the skin. We encamped in a piece of low ground, thickly timbered, but scarcely large enough to permit us to lie level. We had made thirteen miles. We were wet, cold, and hungry; yet we could not procure any game, and were obliged to kill another horse for our supper. This want of provisions, the extreme fatigue to which we were subjected, and the dreary prospect before us, began to dispirit the men. They are growing weak, and losing their flesh very fast.

After three days more of the same kind of experience, on Friday, 20th September, an agreeable change occurred. Capt. Clarke, who had gone forward in hopes of finding game, came suddenly upon a beautiful open plain partially stocked with pine. Shortly after, he discovered three Indian boys, who, observing the party, ran off, and hid themselves in the grass. Capt. Clarke immediately alighted, and, giving his horse and gun to one of the men, went after the boys. He soon relieved their apprehensions, and sent them forward to the village, about a mile off, with presents of small pieces of ribbon. Soon after the boys had reached home, a man came out to meet the party, with great caution; but he conducted them to a large tent in the village, and all the inhabitants gathered round to view with a mixture of fear and pleasure the wonderful strangers. The conductor now informed Capt. Clarke, by signs, that the spacious tent was the residence of the great chief, who had set out three days ago, with all the warriors, to attack some of their enemies towards the south-west; that, in the mean time, there were only a few men left to guard the women and children. They now set before them a small piece of buffalo-meat, some dried salmon, berries, and several kinds of roots. Among these last was one which is round, much like an onion in appearance, and sweet to the taste. It is called quamash, and is eaten either in its natural state, or boiled into a kind of soup, or made into a cake, which is called pasheco. After our long abstinence, this was a sumptuous repast. We returned the kindness of the people with a few small presents, and then went on, in company with one of the chiefs, to a second village in the same plain, at a distance of two miles. Here the party was treated with great kindness, and passed the night.

The two villages consist of about thirty double tents; and the people call themselves Chopunnish, or Pierced-nose. The chief drew a chart of the river on the sand, and explained that a greater chief than himself, who governed this village, and was called the Twisted-hair, was now fishing at the distance of half a day's ride down the river. His chart made the Kooskooskee to fork a little below his camp, below which the river passed the mountains. Here was a great fall of water, near which lived white people, from whom they procured the white beads and brass ornaments worn by the women.

Capt. Clarke engaged an Indian to guide him to the Twisted-hair's camp. For twelve miles, they proceeded through the plain before they reached the river-hills, which are very high and steep. The whole valley from these hills to the Rocky Mountains is a beautiful level country, with a rich soil covered with grass. There is, however, but little timber, and the ground is badly watered. The plain is so much sheltered by the surrounding hills, that the weather is quite warm (Sept. 21), while the cold of the mountains was extreme.

From the top of the river-hills we descended for three miles till we reached the water-side, between eleven and twelve o'clock at night. Here we found a small camp of five women and three children; the chief himself being encamped, with two others, on a small island in the river. The guide called to him, and he came over. Capt. Clarke gave him a medal, and they smoked together till one o'clock.

Next day, Capt. Clarke passed over to the island with the Twisted-hair, who seemed to be cheerful and sincere. The hunters brought in three deer; after which Capt. Clarke left his party, and, accompanied by the Twisted-hair and his son, rode back to the village, where he found Capt. Lewis and his party just arrived.

The plains were now crowded with Indians, who came to see the white men and the strange things they brought with them; but, as our guide was a perfect stranger to their language, we could converse by signs only. Our inquiries were chiefly directed to the situation of the country. The Twisted-hair drew a chart of the river on a white elk-skin. According to this, the Kooskooskee forks a few miles from this place: two days' journey towards the south is another and larger fork, on which the Shoshonee Indians fish; five days' journey farther is a large river from the north-west, into which Clarke's River empties itself. From the junction with that river to the falls is five days' journey farther. On all the forks, as well as on the main river, great numbers of Indians reside; and at the falls are establishments of whites. This was the story of the Twisted-hair.

Provision here was abundant. We purchased a quantity of fish, berries, and roots; and in the afternoon went on to the second village. We continued our purchases, and obtained as much provision as our horses could carry in their present weak condition. Great crowds of the natives are round us all night; but we have not yet missed any thing, except a knife and a few other small articles.

Sept. 24. – The weather is fair. All round the village the women are busily employed in gathering and dressing the pasheco-root, large quantities of which are heaped up in piles all over the plain.

We feel severely the consequence of eating heartily after our late privations. Capt. Lewis and two of his men were taken very ill last evening, and to-day he can hardly sit on his horse. Others could not mount without help; and some were forced to lie down by the side of the road for some time.

Our situation rendered it necessary to husband our remaining strength; and it was determined to proceed down the river in canoes. Capt. Clarke therefore set out with Twisted-hair and two young men in quest of timber for canoes.

Sept. 27, 28, and 29. – Sickness continued. Few of the men were able to work; yet preparations were made for making five canoes. A number of Indians collect about us in the course of the day to gaze at the strange appearance of every thing belonging to us.

Oct. 4. – The men were now much better, and Capt. Lewis so far recovered as to walk about a little. The canoes being nearly finished, it became necessary to dispose of the horses. They were therefore collected to the number of thirty-eight, and, being branded and marked, were delivered to three Indians, – the two brothers and the son of a chief; the chief having promised to accompany us down the river. To each of these men we gave a knife and some small articles; and they agreed to take good care of the horses till our return.

We had all our saddles buried in a cache near the river, about half a mile below, and deposited at the same time a canister of powder and a bag of balls.

THE VOYAGE DOWN THE KOOSKOOSKEE RIVER

Oct. 7. – This morning, all the canoes were put in the water, and loaded, the oars fitted, and every preparation made for setting out. When we were all ready, the chief who had promised to accompany us was not to be found: we therefore proceeded without him. The Kooskooskee is a clear, rapid stream, with a number of shoals and difficult places. This day and the next, we made a distance of fifty miles. We passed several encampments of Indians on the islands and near the rapids, which situations are chosen as the most convenient for taking salmon. At one of these camps we found the chief, who, after promising to descend the river with us, had left us. He, however, willingly came on board, after we had gone through the ceremony of smoking.

Oct. 10. – A fine morning. We loaded the canoes, and set off at seven o'clock. After passing twenty miles, we landed below the junction of a large fork of the river, from the south. Our arrival soon attracted the attention of the Indians, who flocked from all directions to see us. Being again reduced to fish and roots, we made an experiment to vary our food by purchasing a few dogs; and, after having been accustomed to horse-flesh, felt no disrelish to this new dish. The Chopunnish have great numbers of dogs, but never use them for food; and our feeding on the flesh of that animal brought us into ridicule as dog-eaters.

This southern branch is, in fact, the main stream of Lewis's River, on whose upper waters we encamped when among the Shoshonees. At its mouth, Lewis's River is about two hundred and fifty yards wide, and its water is of a greenish-blue color. The Kooskooskee, whose waters are clear as crystal, is one hundred and fifty yards in width; and, after the union, the joint-stream extends to the width of three hundred yards.

The Chopunnish, or Pierced-nose Indians, who reside on the Kooskooskee and Lewis's Rivers, are in person stout, portly, well-looking men. The women are small, with good features, and generally handsome, though the complexion of both sexes is darker than that of the Tushepaws. In dress, they resemble that nation, being fond of displaying their ornaments. The buffalo or elk-skin robe, decorated with beads, sea-shells (chiefly mother-of-pearl), attached to an otter-skin collar, is the dress of the men. The same ornaments are hung in the hair, which falls in front in two cues: they add feathers, paints of different colors (principally white, green, and blue), which they find in their own country. In winter, they wear a shirt of dressed skins; long, painted leggings, and moccasons; and a plait of twisted grass round the neck.

The dress of the women is more simple, consisting of a long shirt of the mountain-sheep skin, reaching down to the ankles, without a girdle. To this are tied little pieces of brass and shells, and other small articles; but the head is not at all ornamented.

The Chopunnish have few amusements; for their life is painful and laborious, and all their exertions are necessary to earn a precarious subsistence. During the summer and autumn, they are busily occupied in fishing for salmon, and collecting their winter store of roots. In winter, they hunt the deer on snow-shoes over the plains; and, towards spring, cross the mountains to the Missouri in pursuit of the buffalo.

The soil of these prairies is a light-yellow clay. It is barren, and produces little more than a bearded grass about three inches high, and the prickly-pear, of which we found three species. The first is the broad-leaved kind, common to this river with the Missouri; the second has a leaf of a globular form, and is also frequent on the upper part of the Missouri; the third is peculiar to this country. It consists of small, thick leaves of a circular form, which grow from the margin of each other. These leaves are armed with a great number of thorns, which are strong, and appear to be barbed. As the leaf itself is very slightly attached to the stem, as soon as one thorn touches the moccason, it adheres, and brings with it the leaf, which is accompanied with a re-enforcement of thorns. This species was a greater annoyance on our march than either of the others.

CHAPTER XII.

FROM THE JUNCTION OF THE KOOSKOOSKEE WITH

LEWIS'S RIVER TO THE COLUMBIA

From the mouth of the Kooskooskee to that of the Lewis is about a hundred miles; which distance they descended in seven days. The navigation was greatly impeded by rapids, which they passed with more or less danger and difficulty; being greatly indebted to the assistance of the Indians, as they thankfully acknowledge. Sometimes they were obliged to unload their boats, and to carry them round by land. All these rapids are fishing-places, greatly resorted to in the season.

On the 17th of October (1805), having reached the junction of Lewis's River with the Columbia, they found by observation that they were in latitude 46° 15´, and longitude 119°. They measured the two rivers by angles, and found, that, at the junction, the Columbia is 960 yards wide; and Lewis's River, 575: but, below their junction, the joint river is from one to three miles in width, including the islands. From the point of junction, the country is a continued plain, rising gradually from the water. There is through this plain no tree, and scarcely any shrub, except a few willow-bushes; and, even of smaller plants, there is not much besides the prickly-pear, which is abundant.

In the course of the day, Capt. Clarke, in a small canoe, with two men, ascended the Columbia. At the distance of five miles, he came to a small but not dangerous rapid. On the bank of the river opposite to this is a fishing-place, consisting of three neat houses. Here were great quantities of salmon drying on scaffolds; and, from the mouth of the river upwards, he saw immense numbers of dead salmon strewed along the shore, or floating on the water.

The Indians, who had collected on the banks to view him, now joined him in eighteen canoes, and accompanied him up the river. A mile above the rapids, he observed three houses of mats, and landed to visit them. On entering one of the houses, he found it crowded with men, women, and children, who immediately provided a mat for him to sit on; and one of the party undertook to prepare something to eat. He began by bringing in a piece of pine-wood that had drifted down the river, which he split into small pieces with a wedge made of the elk's horn, by means of a mallet of stone curiously carved. The pieces were then laid on the fire, and several round stones placed upon them. One of the squaws now brought a bucket of water, in which was a large salmon about half dried; and, as the stones became heated, they were put into the bucket till the salmon was sufficiently boiled. It was then taken out, put on a platter of rushes neatly made, and laid before Capt. Clarke. Another was boiled for each of his men. Capt. Clarke found the fish excellent.

At another island, four miles distant, the inhabitants were occupied in splitting and drying salmon. The multitudes of this fish are almost inconceivable. The water is so clear, that they can readily be seen at the depth of fifteen or twenty feet; but at this season they float in such quantities down the stream, and are drifted ashore, that the Indians have nothing to do but collect, split, and dry them. The Indians assured him by signs that they often used dry fish as fuel for the common occasions of cooking. The evening coming on, he returned to camp.

Capt. Clarke, in the course of his excursion, shot several grouse and ducks; also a prairie-cock, – a bird of the pheasant kind, about the size of a small turkey. It measured, from the beak to the end of the toe, two feet six inches; from the extremity of the wings, three feet six inches; and the feathers of the tail were thirteen inches long. This bird we have seen nowhere except upon this river. Its chief food is the grasshopper, and the seeds of wild plants peculiar to this river and the Upper Missouri.

ADVENTURE OF CAPT. CLARKE

Oct. 19. – Having resumed their descent of the Columbia, they came to a very dangerous rapid. In order to lighten the boats, Capt. Clarke landed, and walked to the foot of the rapid. Arriving there before either of the boats, except a canoe, he sat down on a rock to wait for them; and, seeing a crane fly across the river, shot it, and it fell near him. Several Indians had been, before this, passing on the opposite side; and some of them, alarmed at his appearance or the report of the gun, fled to their houses. Capt. Clarke was afraid that these people might not have heard that white men were coming: therefore, in order to allay their uneasiness before the whole party should arrive, he got into the canoe with three men, and rowed over towards the houses, and, while crossing, shot a duck, which fell into the water. As he approached, no person was to be seen, except three men; and they also fled as he came near the shore. He landed before five houses close to each other; but no person appeared: and the doors, which were of mat, were closed. He went towards one of them with a pipe in his hand, and, pushing aside the mat, entered the lodge, where he found thirty-two persons, men and women, with a few children, all in the greatest consternation; some hanging down their heads; others crying, and wringing their hands. He went up to them all, and shook hands with them in the most friendly manner. Their apprehensions gradually subsided, but revived on his taking out a burning-glass (there being no roof to the lodge), and lighting his pipe. Having at length restored some confidence by the gift of some small presents, he visited some other houses, where he found the inhabitants similarly affected. Confidence was not completely attained until the boats arrived, and then the two chiefs who accompanied the party explained the friendly intentions of the expedition. The sight of Chaboneau's wife also dissipated any remaining doubts, as it is not the practice among the Indians to allow women to accompany a war-party.

To account for their fears, they told the two chiefs that they had seen the white men fall from the sky. Having heard the report of Capt. Clarke's rifle, and seen the birds fall, and not having seen him till after the shot, they fancied that he had himself dropped from the clouds.

This belief was strengthened, when, on entering the lodge, he brought down fire from heaven by means of his burning-glass. We soon convinced them that we were only mortals; and, after one of our chiefs had explained our history and objects, we all smoked together in great harmony.