Chapter 31

Progress in the valley An Indian cavalier The captain falls into

a lethargy A Nez Perce patriarch Hospitable treatment The bald

head Bargaining Value of an old plaid cloak The family horse

The cost of an Indian present

A TRANQUIL NIGHT'S REST had sufficiently restored the broken down

traveller to enable him to resume his wayfaring, and all hands

set forward on the Indian trail. With all their eagerness to

arrive within reach of succor, such was their feeble and

emaciated condition, that they advanced but slowly. Nor is it a

matter of surprise that they should almost have lost heart, as

well as strength. It was now (the 16th of February) fifty-three

days that they had been travelling in the midst of winter,

exposed to all kinds of privations and hardships: and for the

last twenty days, they had been entangled in the wild and

desolate labyrinths of the snowy mountains; climbing and

descending icy precipices, and nearly starved with cold and

hunger.

All the morning they continued following the Indian trail,

without seeing a human being, and were beginning to be

discouraged, when, about noon, they discovered a horseman at a

distance. He was coming directly toward them; but on discovering

them, suddenly reined up his steed, came to a halt, and, after

reconnoitring them for a time with great earnestness, seemed

about to make a cautious retreat. They eagerly made signs of

peace, and endeavored, with the utmost anxiety, to induce him to

approach. He remained for some time in doubt; but at length,

having satisfied himself that they were not enemies, came

galloping up to them. He was a fine, haughty-looking savage,

fancifully decorated, and mounted on a high-mettled steed, with

gaudy trappings and equipments. It was evident that he was a

warrior of some consequence among his tribe. His whole deportment

had something in it of barbaric dignity; he felt, perhaps, his

temporary superiority in personal array, and in the spirit of his

steed, to the poor, ragged, travel-worn trappers and their

half-starved horses. Approaching them with an air of protection,

he gave them his hand, and, in the Nez Perce language, invited

them to his camp, which was only a few miles distant; where he

had plenty to eat, and plenty of horses, and would cheerfully

share his good things with them.

His hospitable invitation was joyfully accepted: he lingered but

a moment, to give directions by which they might find his camp,

and then, wheeling round, and giving the reins to his mettlesome

steed, was soon out of sight. The travellers followed, with

gladdened hearts, but at a snail's pace; for their poor horses

could scarcely drag one leg after the other. Captain Bonneville,

however, experienced a sudden and singular change of feeling.

Hitherto, the necessity of conducting his party, and of providing

against every emergency, had kept his mind upon the stretch, and

his whole system braced and excited. In no one instance had he

flagged in spirit, or felt disposed to succumb. Now, however,

that all danger was over, and the march of a few miles would

bring them to repose and abundance, his energies suddenly

deserted him; and every faculty, mental and physical, was totally

relaxed. He had not proceeded two miles from the point where he

had had the interview with the Nez Perce chief, when he threw

himself upon the earth, without the power or will to move a

muscle, or exert a thought, and sank almost instantly into a

profound and dreamless sleep. His companions again came to a

halt, and encamped beside him, and there they passed the night.

The next morning, Captain Bonneville awakened from his long and

heavy sleep, much refreshed; and they all resumed their creeping

progress. They had not long been on the march, when eight or ten

of the Nez Perce tribe came galloping to meet them, leading fresh

horses to bear them to their camp. Thus gallantly mounted, they

felt new life infused into their languid frames, and dashing

forward, were soon at the lodges of the Nez Perces. Here they

found about twelve families living together, under the

patriarchal sway of an ancient and venerable chief. He received

them with the hospitality of the golden age, and with something

of the same kind of fare; for, while he opened his arms to make

them welcome, the only repast he set before them consisted of

roots. They could have wished for something more hearty and

substantial; but, for want of better, made a voracious meal on

these humble viands. The repast being over, the best pipe was

lighted and sent round: and this was a most welcome luxury,

having lost their smoking apparatus twelve days before, among the

mountains.

While they were thus enjoying themselves, their poor horses were

led to the best pastures in the neighborhood, where they were

turned loose to revel on the fresh sprouting grass; so that they

had better fare than their masters.

Captain Bonneville soon felt himself quite at home among these

quiet, inoffensive people. His long residence among their

cousins, the Upper Nez Perces, had made him conversant with their

language, modes of expression, and all their habitudes. He soon

found, too, that he was well known among them, by report, at

least, from the constant interchange of visits and messages

between the two branches of the tribe. They at first addressed

him by his name; giving him his title of captain, with a French

accent: but they soon gave him a title of their own; which, as

usual with Indian titles, had a peculiar signification. In the

case of the captain, it had somewhat of a whimsical origin.

As he sat chatting and smoking in the midst of them, he would

occasionally take off his cap. Whenever he did so, there was a

sensation in the surrounding circle. The Indians would half rise

from their recumbent posture, and gaze upon his uncovered head,

with their usual exclamation of astonishment. The worthy captain

was completely bald; a phenomenon very surprising in their eyes.

They were at a loss to know whether he had been scalped in

battle, or enjoyed a natural immunity from that belligerent

infliction. In a little while, he became known among them by an

Indian name, signifying "the bald chief." "A sobriquet," observes

the captain, "for which I can find no parallel in history since

the days of 'Charles the Bald.'"

Although the travellers had banqueted on roots, and been regaled

with tobacco smoke, yet their stomachs craved more generous fare.

In approaching the lodges of the Nez Perces, they had indulged in

fond anticipations of venison and dried salmon; and dreams of the

kind still haunted their imaginations, and could not be conjured

down. The keen appetites of mountain trappers, quickened by a

fortnight's fasting, at length got the better of all scruples of

pride, and they fairly begged some fish or flesh from the

hospitable savages. The latter, however, were slow to break in

upon their winter store, which was very limited; but were ready

to furnish roots in abundance, which they pronounced excellent

food. At length, Captain Bonneville thought of a means of

attaining the much-coveted gratification.

He had about him, he says, a trusty plaid; an old and valued

travelling companion and comforter; upon which the rains had

descended, and the snows and winds beaten, without further effect

than somewhat to tarnish its primitive lustre. This coat of many

colors had excited the admiration, and inflamed the covetousness

of both warriors and squaws, to an extravagant degree. An idea

now occurred to Captain Bonneville, to convert this rainbow

garment into the savory viands so much desired. There was a

momentary struggle in his mind, between old associations and

projected indulgence; and his decision in favor of the latter was

made, he says, with a greater promptness, perhaps, than true

taste and sentiment might have required. In a few moments, his

plaid cloak was cut into numerous strips. "Of these," continues

he, "with the newly developed talent of a man-milliner, I

speedily constructed turbans a la Turque, and fanciful head-gears

of divers conformations. These, judiciously distributed among

such of the womenkind as seemed of most consequence and interest

in the eyes of the patres conscripti, brought us, in a little

while, abundance of dried salmon and deers' hearts; on which we

made a sumptous supper. Another, and a more satisfactory smoke,

succeeded this repast, and sweet slumbers answering the peaceful

invocation of our pipes, wrapped us in that delicious rest, which

is only won by toil and travail." As to Captain Bonneville, he

slept in the lodge of the venerable patriarch, who had evidently

conceived a most disinterested affection for him; as was shown on

the following morning. The travellers, invigorated by a good

supper, and "fresh from the bath of repose," were about to resume

their journey, when this affectionate old chief took the captain

aside, to let him know how much he loved him. As a proof of his

regard, he had determined to give him a fine horse, which would

go further than words, and put his good will beyond all question.

So saying, he made a signal, and forthwith a beautiful young

horse, of a brown color, was led, prancing and snorting, to the

place. Captain Bonneville was suitably affected by this mark of

friendship; but his experience in what is proverbially called

"Indian giving," made him aware that a parting pledge was

necessary on his own part, to prove that his friendship was

reciprocated. He accordingly placed a handsome rifle in the hands

of the venerable chief, whose benevolent heart was evidently

touched and gratified by this outward and visible sign of amity.

Having now, as he thought, balanced this little account of

friendship, the captain was about to shift his saddle to this

noble gift-horse when the affectionate patriarch plucked him by

the sleeve, and introduced to him a whimpering, whining,

leathern-skinned old squaw, that might have passed for an

Egyptian mummy, without drying. "This," said he, "is my wife; she

is a good wife--I love her very much.--She loves the horse--she

loves him a great deal--she will cry very much at losing him.--I

do not know how I shall comfort her--and that makes my heart very

sore."

What could the worthy captain do, to console the tender-hearted

old squaw, and, peradventure, to save the venerable patriarch

from a curtain lecture? He bethought himself of a pair of

ear-bobs: it was true, the patriarch's better-half was of an age

and appearance that seemed to put personal vanity out of the

question, but when is personal vanity extinct? The moment he

produced the glittering earbobs, the whimpering and whining of

the sempiternal beldame was at an end. She eagerly placed the

precious baubles in her ears, and, though as ugly as the Witch of

Endor, went off with a sideling gait and coquettish air, as

though she had been a perfect Semiramis.

The captain had now saddled his newly acquired steed, and his

foot was in the stirrup, when the affectionate patriarch again

stepped forward, and presented to him a young Pierced-nose, who

had a peculiarly sulky look. "This," said the venerable chief,

"is my son: he is very good; a great horseman--he always took

care of this very fine horse--he brought him up from a colt, and

made him what he is.--He is very fond of this fine horse--he

loves him like a brother-- his heart will be very heavy when this

fine horse leaves the camp."

What could the captain do, to reward the youthful hope of this

venerable pair, and comfort him for the loss of his

foster-brother, the horse? He bethought him of a hatchet, which

might be spared from his slender stores. No sooner did he place

the implement into the hands of the young hopeful, than his

countenance brightened up, and he went off rejoicing in his

hatchet, to the full as much as did his respectable mother in her

ear-bobs.

The captain was now in the saddle, and about to start, when the

affectionate old patriarch stepped forward, for the third time,

and, while he laid one hand gently on the mane of the horse, held

up the rifle in the other. "This rifle," said he, "shall be my

great medicine. I will hug it to my heart--I will always love it,

for the sake of my good friend, the bald-headed chief.--But a

rifle, by itself, is dumb--I cannot make it speak. If I had a

little powder and ball, I would take it out with me, and would

now and then shoot a deer; and when I brought the meat home to my

hungry family, I would say--This was killed by the rifle of my

friend, the bald-headed chief, to whom I gave that very fine

horse."

There was no resisting this appeal; the captain, forthwith,

furnished the coveted supply of powder and ball; but at the same

time, put spurs to his very fine gift-horse, and the first trial

of his speed was to get out of all further manifestation of

friendship, on the part of the affectionate old patriarch and his

insinuating family.