Chapter 33

Scenery of the Way-lee-way A substitute for tobacco Sublime

scenery of Snake River The garrulous old chief and his cousin A

Nez Perce meeting A stolen skin The scapegoat dog Mysterious

conferences The little chief His hospitality The captain's

account of the United States His healing skill

IN RESUMING HIS JOURNEY, Captain Bonneville was conducted by the

same Nez Perce guide, whose knowledge of the country was

important in choosing the routes and resting places. He also

continued to be accompanied by the worthy old chief with the hard

name, who seemed bent upon doing the honors of the country, and

introducing him to every branch of his tribe. The Way-lee-way,

down the banks of which Captain Bonneville and his companions

were now travelling, is a considerable stream winding through a

succession of bold and beautiful scenes. Sometimes the landscape

towered into bold and mountainous heights that partook of

sublimity; at other times, it stretched along the water side in

fresh smiling meadows, and graceful undulating valleys.

Frequently in their route they encountered small parties of the

Nez Perces, with whom they invariably stopped to shake hands; and

who, generally, evinced great curiosity concerning them and their

adventures; a curiosity which never failed to be thoroughly

satisfied by the replies of the worthy Yo-mus-ro-y-e-cut, who

kindly took upon himself to be spokesman of the party.

The incessant smoking of pipes incident to the long talks of this

excellent, but somewhat garrulous old chief, at length exhausted

all his stock of tobacco, so that he had no longer a whiff with

which to regale his white companions. In this emergency, he cut

up the stem of his pipe into fine shavings, which he mixed with

certain herbs, and thus manufactured a temporary succedaneum to

enable him to accompany his long colloquies and harangues with

the customary fragrant cloud.

If the scenery of the Way-lee-way had charmed the travellers with

its mingled amenity and grandeur, that which broke upon them on

once more reaching Snake River, filled them with admiration and

astonishment. At times, the river was overhung by dark and

stupendous rocks, rising like gigantic walls and battlements;

these would be rent by wide and yawning chasms, that seemed to

speak of past convulsions of nature. Sometimes the river was of a

glassy smoothness and placidity; at other times it roared along

in impetuous rapids and foaming cascades. Here, the rocks were

piled in the most fantastic crags and precipices; and in another

place, they were succeeded by delightful valleys carpeted with

green-award. The whole of this wild and varied scenery was

dominated by immense mountains rearing their distant peaks into

the clouds. "The grandeur and originality of the views, presented

on every side," says Captain Bonneville, "beggar both the pencil

and the pen. Nothing we had ever gazed upon in any other region

could for a moment compare in wild majesty and impressive

sternness, with the series of scenes which here at every turn

astonished our senses, and filled us with awe and delight."

Indeed, from all that we can gather from the journal before us,

and the accounts of other travellers, who passed through these

regions in the memorable enterprise of Astoria, we are inclined

to think that Snake River must be one of the most remarkable for

varied and striking scenery of all the rivers of this continent.

From its head waters in the Rocky Mountains, to its junction with

the Columbia, its windings are upward of six hundred miles

through every variety of landscape. Rising in a volcanic region,

amid extinguished craters, and mountains awful with the traces of

ancient fires, it makes its way through great plains of lava and

sandy deserts, penetrates vast sierras or mountainous chains,

broken into romantic and often frightful precipices, and crowned

with eternal snows; and at other times, careers through green and

smiling meadows, and wide landscapes of Italian grace and beauty.

Wildness and sublimity, however, appear to be its prevailing

characteristics.

Captain Bonneville and his companions had pursued their journey a

considerable distance down the course of Snake River, when the

old chief halted on the bank, and dismounting, recommended that

they should turn their horses loose to graze, while he summoned a

cousin of his from a group of lodges on the opposite side of the

stream. His summons was quickly answered. An Indian, of an active

elastic form, leaped into a light canoe of cotton-wood, and

vigorously plying the paddle, soon shot across the river.

Bounding on shore, he advanced with a buoyant air and frank

demeanor, and gave his right hand to each of the party in turn.

The old chief, whose hard name we forbear to repeat, now

presented Captain Bonneville, in form, to his cousin, whose name,

we regret to say, was no less hard being nothing less than

Hay-she-in-cow-cow. The latter evinced the usual curiosity to

know all about the strangers, whence they came whither they were

going, the object of their journey, and the adventures they had

experienced. All these, of course, were ample and eloquently set

forth by the communicative old chief. To all his grandiloquent

account of the bald-headed chief and his countrymen, the Big

Hearts of the East, his cousin listened with great attention, and

replied in the customary style of Indian welcome. He then desired

the party to await his return, and, springing into his canoe,

darted across the river. In a little while he returned, bringing

a most welcome supply of tobacco, and a small stock of provisions

for the road, declaring his intention of accompanying the party.

Having no horse, he mounted behind one of the men, observing that

he should procure a steed for himself on the following day.

They all now jogged on very sociably and cheerily together. Not

many miles beyond, they met others of the tribe, among whom was

one, whom Captain Bonneville and his comrades had known during

their residence among the Upper Nez Perces, and who welcomed them

with open arms. In this neighborhood was the home of their guide,

who took leave of them with a profusion of good wishes for their

safety and happiness. That night they put up in the hut of a Nez

Perce, where they were visited by several warriors from the other

side of the river, friends of the old chief and his cousin, who

came to have a talk and a smoke with the white men. The heart of

the good old chief was overflowing with good will at thus being

surrounded by his new and old friends, and he talked with more

spirit and vivacity than ever. The evening passed away in perfect

harmony and good-humor, and it was not until a late hour that the

visitors took their leave and recrossed the river.

After this constant picture of worth and virtue on the part of

the Nez Perce tribe, we grieve to have to record a circumstance

calculated to throw a temporary shade upon the name. In the

course of the social and harmonious evening just mentioned, one

of the captain's men, who happened to be something of a virtuoso

in his way, and fond of collecting curiosities, produced a small

skin, a great rarity in the eyes of men conversant in peltries.

It attracted much attention among the visitors from beyond the

river, who passed it from one to the other, examined it with

looks of lively admiration, and pronounced it a great medicine.

In the morning, when the captain and his party were about to set

off, the precious skin was missing. Search was made for it in the

hut, but it was nowhere to be found; and it was strongly

suspected that it had been purloined by some of the connoisseurs

from the other side of the river.

The old chief and his cousin were indignant at the supposed

delinquency of their friends across the water, and called out for

them to come over and answer for their shameful conduct. The

others answered to the call with all the promptitude of perfect

innocence, and spurned at the idea of their being capable of such

outrage upon any of the Big-hearted nation. All were at a loss on

whom to fix the crime of abstracting the invaluable skin, when by

chance the eyes of the worthies from beyond the water fell upon

an unhappy cur, belonging to the owner of the hut. He was a

gallows-looking dog, but not more so than most Indian dogs, who,

take them in the mass, are little better than a generation of

vipers. Be that as it may, he was instantly accused of having

devoured the skin in question. A dog accused is generally a dog

condemned; and a dog condemned is generally a dog executed. So

was it in the present instance. The unfortunate cur was

arraigned; his thievish looks substantiated his guilt, and he was

condemned by his judges from across the river to be hanged. In

vain the Indians of the hut, with whom he was a great favorite,

interceded in his behalf. In vain Captain Bonneville and his

comrades petitioned that his life might be spared. His judges

were inexorable. He was doubly guilty: first, in having robbed

their good friends, the Big Hearts of the East; secondly, in

having brought a doubt on the honor of the Nez Perce tribe. He

was, accordingly, swung aloft, and pelted with stones to make his

death more certain. The sentence of the judges being thoroughly

executed, a post mortem examination of the body of the dog was

held, to establish his delinquency beyond all doubt, and to leave

the Nez Perces without a shadow of suspicion. Great interest, of

course, was manifested by all present, during this operation. The

body of the dog was opened, the intestines rigorously

scrutinized, but, to the horror of all concerned, not a particle

of the skin was to be found--the dog had been unjustly executed!

A great clamor now ensued, but the most clamorous was the party

from across the river, whose jealousy of their good name now

prompted them to the most vociferous vindications of their

innocence. It was with the utmost difficulty that the captain and

his comrades could calm their lively sensibilities, by accounting

for the disappearance of the skin in a dozen different ways,

until all idea of its having been stolen was entirely out of the

question.

The meeting now broke up. The warriors returned across the river,

the captain and his comrades proceeded on their journey; but the

spirits of the communicative old chief, Yo-mus-ro-y-e-cut, were

for a time completely dampened, and he evinced great

mortification at what had just occurred. He rode on in silence,

except, that now and then he would give way to a burst of

indignation, and exclaim, with a shake of the head and a toss of

the hand toward the opposite shore--"bad men, very bad men across

the river"; to each of which brief exclamations, his worthy

cousin, Hay-she-in-cow-cow, would respond by a guttural sound of

acquiescence, equivalent to an amen.

After some time, the countenance of the-old chief again cleared

up, and he fell into repeated conferences, in an under tone, with

his cousin, which ended in the departure of the latter, who,

applying the lash to his horse, dashed forward and was soon out

of sight. In fact, they were drawing near to the village of

another chief, likewise distinguished by an appellation of some

longitude, O-pushy-e-cut; but commonly known as the great chief.

The cousin had been sent ahead to give notice of their approach;

a herald appeared as before, bearing a powder-horn, to enable

them to respond to the intended salute. A scene ensued, on their

approach to the village, similar to that which had occurred at

the village of the little chief. The whole population appeared in

the field, drawn up in lines, arrayed with the customary regard

to rank and dignity. Then came on the firing of salutes, and the

shaking of hands, in which last ceremonial every individual, man,

woman, and child, participated; for the Indians have an idea that

it is as indispensable an overture of friendship among the whites

as smoking of the pipe is among the red men. The travellers were

next ushered to the banquet, where all the choicest viands that

the village could furnish, were served up in rich profusion. They

were afterwards entertained by feats of agility and horseraces;

indeed, their visit to the village seemed the signal for complete

festivity. In the meantime, a skin lodge had been spread for

their accommodation, their horses and baggage were taken care of,

and wood and water supplied in abundance. At night, therefore,

they retired to their quarters, to enjoy, as they supposed, the

repose of which they stood in need. No such thing, however, was

in store for them. A crowd of visitors awaited their appearance,

all eager for a smoke and a talk. The pipe was immediately

lighted, and constantly replenished and kept alive until the

night was far advanced. As usual, the utmost eagerness was

evinced by the guests to learn everything within the scope of

their comprehension respecting the Americans, for whom they

professed the most fraternal regard. The captain, in his replies,

made use of familiar illustrations, calculated to strike their

minds, and impress them with such an idea of the might of his

nation, as would induce them to treat with kindness and respect

all stragglers that might fall in their path. To their inquiries

as to the numbers of the people of the United States, he assured

them that they were as countless as the blades of grass in the

prairies, and that, great as Snake River was, if they were all

encamped upon its banks, they would drink it dry in a single day.

To these and similar statistics, they listened with profound

attention, and apparently, implicit belief. It was, indeed, a

striking scene: the captain, with his hunter's dress and bald

head in the midst, holding forth, and his wild auditors seated

around like so many statues, the fire lighting up their painted

faces and muscular figures, all fixed and motionless, excepting

when the pipe was passed, a question propounded, or a startling

fact in statistics received with a movement of surprise and a

half-suppressed ejaculation of wonder and delight.

The fame of the captain as a healer of diseases, had accompanied

him to this village, and the great chief, O-push-y-e-cut, now

entreated him to exert his skill on his daughter, who had been

for three days racked with pains, for which the Pierced-nose

doctors could devise no alleviation. The captain found her

extended on a pallet of mats in excruciating pain. Her father

manifested the strongest paternal affection for her, and assured

the captain that if he would but cure her, he would place the

Americans near his heart. The worthy captain needed no such

inducement. His kind heart was already touched by the sufferings

of the poor girl, and his sympathies quickened by her appearance;

for she was but about sixteen years of age, and uncommonly

beautiful in form and feature. The only difficulty with the

captain was, that he knew nothing of her malady, and that his

medical science was of a most haphazard kind. After considering

and cogitating for some time, as a man is apt to do when in a

maze of vague ideas, he made a desperate dash at a remedy. By his

directions, the girl was placed in a sort of rude vapor bath,

much used by the Nez Perces, where she was kept until near

fainting. He then gave her a dose of gunpowder dissolved in cold

water, and ordered her to be wrapped in buffalo robes and put to

sleep under a load of furs and blankets. The remedy succeeded:

the next morning she was free from pain, though extremely

languid; whereupon, the captain prescribed for her a bowl of

colt's head broth, and that she should be kept for a time on

simple diet.

The great chief was unbounded in his expressions of gratitude for

the recovery of his daughter. He would fain have detained the

captain a long time as his guest, but the time for departure had

arrived. When the captain's horse was brought for him to mount,

the chief declared that the steed was not worthy of him, and sent

for one of his best horses, which he presented in its stead;

declaring that it made his heart glad to see his friend so well

mounted. He then appointed a young Nez Perce to accompany his

guest to the next village, and "to carry his talk" concerning

them; and the two parties separated with mutual expressions of

good will.

The vapor bath of which we have made mention is in frequent use

among the Nez Perce tribe, chiefly for cleanliness. Their

sweating houses, as they call them, are small and close lodges,

and the vapor is produced by water poured slowly upon red-hot

stones.

On passing the limits of O-push-y-e-cut's domains, the travellers

left the elevated table-lands, and all the wild and romantic

scenery which has just been described. They now traversed a

gently undulating country, of such fertility that it excited the

rapturous admiration of two of the captain's followers, a

Kentuckian and a native of Ohio. They declared that it surpassed

any land that they had ever seen, and often exclaimed what a

delight it would be just to run a plough through such a rich and

teeming soil, and see it open its bountiful promise before the

share.

Another halt and sojourn of a night was made at the village of a

chief named He-mim-el-pilp, where similar ceremonies were

observed and hospitality experienced, as at the preceding

villages. They now pursued a west-southwest course through a

beautiful and fertile region, better wooded than most of the

tracts through which they had passed. In their progress, they met

with several bands of Nez Perces, by whom they were invariably

treated with the utmost kindness. Within seven days after leaving

the domain of He-mim-el-pilp, they struck the Columbia River at

Fort Wallah-Wallah, where they arrived on the 4th of March, 1834.