Chapter 47

A festive winter Conversion of the Shoshonies Visit of two

free trappers Gayety in the camp A touch of the tender

passion The reclaimed squaw An Indian fine lady An

elopement A pursuit Market value of a bad wife.

GAME continued to abound throughout the winter, and the camp was

overstocked with provisions. Beef and venison, humps and

haunches, buffalo tongues and marrow-bones, were constantly

cooking at every fire; and the whole atmosphere was redolent with

the savory fumes of roast meat. It was, indeed, a continual

"feast of fat things," and though there might be a lack of "wine

upon the lees," yet we have shown that a substitute was

occasionally to be found in honey and alcohol.

Both the Shoshonies and the Eutaws conducted themselves with

great propriety. It is true, they now and then filched a few

trifles from their good friends, the Big Hearts, when their backs

were turned; but then, they always treated them to their faces

with the utmost deference and respect, and good-humoredly vied

with the trappers in all kinds of feats of activity and mirthful

sports. The two tribes maintained toward each other, also a

friendliness of aspect which gave Captain Bonneville reason to

hope that all past animosity was effectually buried.

The two rival bands, however, had not long been mingled in this

social manner before their ancient jealousy began to break out in

a new form. The senior chief of the Shoshonies was a thinking

man, and a man of observation. He had been among the Nez Perces,

listened to their new code of morality and religion received from

the white men, and attended their devotional exercises. He had

observed the effect of all this, in elevating the tribe in the

estimation of the white men; and determined, by the same means,

to gain for his own tribe a superiority over their ignorant

rivals, the Eutaws. He accordingly assembled his people, and

promulgated among them the mongrel doctrines and form of worship

of the Nez Perces; recommending the same to their adoption. The

Shoshonies were struck with the novelty, at least, of the

measure, and entered into it with spirit. They began to observe

Sundays and holidays, and to have their devotional dances, and

chants, and other ceremonials, about which the ignorant Eutaws

knew nothing; while they exerted their usual competition in

shooting and horseracing, and the renowned game of hand.

Matters were going on thus pleasantly and prosperously, in this

motley community of white and red men, when, one morning, two

stark free trappers, arrayed in the height of savage finery, and

mounted on steeds as fine and as fiery as themselves, and all

jingling with hawks' bells, came galloping, with whoop and

halloo, into the camp.

They were fresh from the winter encampment of the American Fur

Company, in the Green River Valley; and had come to pay their old

comrades of Captain Bonneville's company a visit. An idea may be

formed from the scenes we have already given of conviviality in

the wilderness, of the manner in which these game birds were

received by those of their feather in the camp; what feasting,

what revelling, what boasting, what bragging, what ranting and

roaring, and racing and gambling, and squabbling and fighting,

ensued among these boon companions. Captain Bonneville, it is

true, maintained always a certain degree of law and order in his

camp, and checked each fierce excess; but the trappers, in their

seasons of idleness and relaxation require a degree of license

and indulgence, to repay them for the long privations and almost

incredible hardships of their periods of active service.

In the midst of all this feasting and frolicking, a freak of the

tender passion intervened, and wrought a complete change in the

scene. Among the Indian beauties in the camp of the Eutaws and

Shoshonies, the free trappers discovered two, who had whilom

figured as their squaws. These connections frequently take place

for a season, and sometimes continue for years, if not

perpetually; but are apt to be broken when the free trapper

starts off, suddenly, on some distant and rough expedition.

In the present instance, these wild blades were anxious to regain

their belles; nor were the latter loath once more to come under

their protection. The free trapper combines, in the eye of an

Indian girl, all that is dashing and heroic in a warrior of her

own race -- whose gait, and garb, and bravery he emulates -- with

all that is gallant and glorious in the white man. And then the

indulgence with which he treats her, the finery in which he decks

her out, the state in which she moves, the sway she enjoys over

both his purse and person; instead of being the drudge and slave

of an Indian husband, obliged to carry his pack, and build his

lodge, and make his fire, and bear his cross humors and dry

blows. No; there is no comparison in the eyes of an aspiring

belle of the wilderness, between a free trapper and an Indian

brave.

With respect to one of the parties the matter was easily

arranged. 'The beauty in question was a pert little Eutaw wench,

that had been taken prisoner, in some war excursion, by a

Shoshonie. She was readily ransomed for a few articles of

trifling value; and forthwith figured about the camp in fine

array, "with rings on her fingers, and bells on her toes," and a

tossed-up coquettish air that made her the envy, admiration, and

abhorrence of all the leathern-dressed, hard-working squaws of

her acquaintance.

As to the other beauty, it was quite a different matter. She had

become the wife of a Shoshonie brave. It is true, he had another

wife, of older date than the one in question; who, therefore,

took command in his household, and treated his new spouse as a

slave; but the latter was the wife of his last fancy, his latest

caprice; and was precious in his eyes. All attempt to bargain

with him, therefore, was useless; the very proposition was

repulsed with anger and disdain. The spirit of the trapper was

roused, his pride was piqued as well as his passion. He

endeavored to prevail upon his quondam mistress to elope with

him. His horses were fleet, the winter nights were long and dark,

before daylight they would be beyond the reach of pursuit; and

once at the encampment in Green River Valley, they might set the

whole band of Shoshonies at defiance.

The Indian girl listened and longed. Her heart yearned after the

ease and splendor of condition of a trapper's bride, and throbbed

to be free from the capricious control of the premier squaw; but

she dreaded the failure of the plan, and the fury of a Shoshonie

husband. They parted; the Indian girl in tears, and the madcap

trapper more than ever, with his thwarted passion.

Their interviews had, probably, been detected, and the jealousy

of the Shoshonie brave aroused: a clamor of angry voices was

heard in his lodge, with the sound of blows, and of female

weeping and lamenting. At night, as the trapper lay tossing on

his pallet, a soft voice whispered at the door of his lodge. His

mistress stood trembling before him. She was ready to follow

whithersoever he should lead.

In an instant he was up and out. He had two prime horses, sure

and swift of foot, and of great wind. With stealthy quiet, they

were brought up and saddled; and in a few moments he and his

prize were careering over the snow, with which the whole country

was covered. In the eagerness of escape, they had made no

provision for their journey; days must elapse before they could

reach their haven of safety, and mountains and prairies be

traversed, wrapped in all the desolation of winter. For the

present, however they thought of nothing but flight; urging their

horses forward over the dreary wastes, and fancying, in the

howling of every blast, they heard the yell of the pursuer.

At early dawn, the Shoshonie became aware of his loss. Mounting

his swiftest horse, he set off in hot pursuit. He soon found the

trail of the fugitives, and spurred on in hopes of overtaking

them. The winds, however, which swept the valley, had drifted the

light snow into the prints made by the horses' hoofs. In a little

while he lost all trace of them, and was completely thrown out of

the chase. He knew, however, the situation of the camp toward

which they were bound, and a direct course through the mountains,

by which he might arrive there sooner than the fugitives. Through

the most rugged defiles, therefore, he urged his course by day

and night, scarce pausing until he reached the camp. It was some

time before the fugitives made their appearance. Six days had

they traversed the wintry wilds. They came, haggard with hunger

and fatigue, and their horses faltering under them. The first

object that met their eyes on entering the camp was the Shoshonie

brave. He rushed, knife in hand, to plunge it in the heart that

had proved false to him. The trapper threw himself before the

cowering form of his mistress, and, exhausted as he was, prepared

for a deadly struggle. The Shoshonie paused. His habitual awe of

the white man checked his arm; the trapper's friends crowded to

the spot, and arrested him. A parley ensued. A kind of crim. con.

adjudication took place; such as frequently occurs in civilized

life. A couple of horses were declared to be a fair compensation

for the loss of a woman who had previously lost her heart; with

this, the Shoshonie brave was fain to pacify his passion. He

returned to Captain Bonneville's camp, somewhat crestfallen, it

is true; but parried the officious condolements of his friends by

observing that two good horses were very good pay for one bad

wife.