 | CHAPTER VII. Narrative of my captivity among the Sioux Indians. |  |
CHAPTER VII.
POWDER RIVER—ANOTHER ATTEMPT TO ESCAPE—DETECTION AND
DESPAIR—A QUARREL—MY LIFE SAVED BY "JUMPING BEAR."
The name given to Powder Eiver by the Indians, is
"Chahalee Wacapolah." It crosses the country east of
the Big Horn Mountains, and from its banks can be
seen the snow-capped Cloud Peak rising grandly from
its surrounding hills. Between these ranges, that culminate
in the queenly, shining crowned height that
takes its name from the clouds it seems to pierce, are
fertile valleys, in which game abounds, and delicious
wild fruits in great variety, some of which can not be
surpassed by cultivated orchard products in the richness
and flavor they possess, although they ripen in
the neighborhood of everlasting snow.
In these valleys the country seems to roll in gentle
slopes, presenting to the eye many elements of loveliness
and future value.
Powder Eiver, which is a muddy stream, comes
from the southern side of the Big Horn Mountains,
and takes a southwestern course, and therefore is not
a part of the bright channel that combines to feed the
Missouri Eiver from the Big Horn range.
This range of the Rocky Mountains possesses two
distinct, marked features. First, there is a central or
back-bone range, which culminates in perpetual snow,
where Cloud Peak grandly rises, as the chief of all its
proud summits. Falling off gradually toward the
southern valley, there are similar ranges of the Wind
River Mountains beyond.
Between these ranges, and varying in breadth from
twelve to twenty-five miles, are fine hunting grounds,
abounding in noble orchards of wild fruit of various
kinds, and grapes, as well as game of the choicest
kind for the huntsman. Notwithstanding its vicinity
to snow, there are gentle slopes which present features
of peculiar loveliness.
Several miles northwest, and following the sweep of
the higher northern range, and six to eight miles outside
its general base, a new country opens. Sage
brush and cactus, which for nearly two hundred miles
have so largely monopolized the soil, rapidly disappear.
The change, though sudden, is very beautiful. One
narrow divide only is crossed, and the transition about
one day's ride from the above-named river. The limpid,
transparent, and noisy waters of Deer Fork are
reached, and the horses have difficulty in breasting the
swift current. The river is so clear that every pebble
and fish is seen distinctly on the bottom, and the water
so cool that ice in midsummer is no object of desire.
The scenes of natural beauty, and the charms that
future lure the emigrant seeking a home in this new
and undeveloped land.
This clear creek is a genuine outflow from the Big
Horn Mountains, and is a type of many others, no
less pure and valuable, derived from melting snow
and from innumerable springs in the mountains.
Rock Creek comes next, with far less pretensions,
but is similar in character.
A day's ride to the northward brings the traveler
to Crazy Woman's Fork.
This ever-flowing stream receives its yellow hue from
the Powder River waters, of which it is a branch.
The country is scarred by countless trails of buffalo,
so that what is often called the Indian trail is merely
the hoof-print of these animals.
Leaving Powder River, we passed through large
pine forests, and through valleys rich with beautiful
grasses, with limpid springs and seemingly eternal
verdure.
I continued to drop papers by the way, hoping they
might lead to my discovery, which would have proved
fatal had any one attempted a rescue, as the Indians
prefer to kill their captives rather than be forced to
give them up.
It was the fifth night of my sojourn with the Indians
that I found myself under the weeping willows
of Clear Creek.
The men, weary with travel, and glad to find so
good a camping ground, lay down to sleep, leaving a
sufficient guard over their captive and at the outposts.
Their journey hither had been a perilous one to me,
unused as I was to the rocky paths between narrow
gorges and over masses of broken stone, which their
Indian ponies climbed with readiness and case.
I was led to remark the difference between these
ponies and American horses, who could only struggle
to find their foothold over such craggy ground, while
the ponies led the way, picking their steps up almost
perpendicular steeps with burdens on their backs.
Their travel after the rest at Clear Creek partook of
the difficult nature of the mountain passes, and was
wearisome in the extreme, and the duties imposed upon
me made life almost too burdensome to be borne. I
was always glad of a respite at the camping ground.
On the sixth night, I lay on a rock, under the shade
of some bushes, meditating on the possibility of escape.
The way was far beyond my reckoning, and the
woods where they now were might be infested with
wild beasts; but the prospect of getting away, and
being free from the savages, closed my eyes to the
terrors of starvation and ravenous animals.
Softly I rose and attempted to steal toward some
growing timber; but the watchful chief did not risk
his prey so carelessly, his keen eye was on me, and
his iron hand grasped my wrist and drew me back.
Throwing me fiercely on the ground, he hissed a threat
through his clenched teeth, which I momentarily expected
him to put into execution, as I lay trembling at
his feet.
I felt from this time that my captivity was for life,
and a dull despair took possession of me.
Sleep, that balm for happier souls, brought only
horrid dreams, in which a dreadful future pictured
itself; and then the "voices of my husband and child
seemed calling me to their side, alas! in vain, for when
I awoke it was to find myself in the grass of the
savage camping ground, watched over by the relentless
guard, and shut out from hope of home or civilized life.
My feet were covered with a pair of good shoes, and
the chief's brother-in-law gave me a pair of stockings
from his stores, which I gladly accepted, never, for a
moment, suspecting that, in doing thus, I was outraging
a custom of the people among whom I was.
The chief saw the gift, and made no remark at the
time, but soon after he shot one of his brother-in-law's
horses, which he objected to in a decided manner, and
a quarrel ensued.
Realizing that I was the cause of the disagreement,
I tremblingly watched the contest, unable to conciliate
either combatant, and dreading the wrath of both.
The chief would brook no interference, nor would he
offer any reparation for the wrong he had inflicted.
His brother-in-law, enraged at his arrogance, drew
to have satisfaction for the loss of his horse.
I could only cry to God for mercy, and prepare to
meet the death which had long hung over my head,
when a young Blackfoot, whose name was Jumping
Bear, saved me from the approaching doom by dexterously
snatching the bow from the savage and hurling
it to the earth.
He was named Jumping Bear from the almost miraculous
dexterity of some of his feats.
This circumstance and the Indian mentioned were,
in my judgment, instruments in the hand of Providence,
in saving Fort Sully from the vengeance and
slaughter of the Blackfeet, who had succeeded in gaining
the confidence of some of the officers on the Missouri
River.
His activity in the attack on our train, and the
energy he displayed in killing and pillaging on that
occasion, notwithstanding his efforts to make me believe
the contrary, forbade me to think there was any sympathy
in his interference in my behalf.
The Indian submitted to his intervention so far that
he did not draw his bow again, and my suspense was
relieved, for the time, by the gift of a horse from the
chief to his brother-in-law, which calmed the fury of
the wronged Indian.
It happened that the animal thus given as a peace-offering
was the pack horse that pulled so uncomfortably
gained, by the ordeal through which I had passed, in
being relieved of a most unmanageable task.
From the first, I was deprived of every ameliorating
comfort that might have rendered my existence
bearable.
No tent was spread for me, no rug, or coverlet,
offered me to lie on. The hard earth, sparsely spread
with grass, furnished me a couch, and apprehension
and regret deprived me of the rest my toilsome life
demanded. They offered me no food, and at first I did
not dare to ask for it.
This was partly owing to the absence of all natural
appetite, an intense weakness and craving constantly
for drink being the only signs of the prolonged fast
that annoyed me.
The utter hopelessness of my isolation wore on me,
driving me almost to madness, and visions of husband
and child haunted my brain; sometimes they were full
of hope and tauntingly happy; at others, I saw them
dying or dead, but always beyond my reach, and separated
by the impassable barrier of my probably lifelong
captivity.
In my weakened condition, the horrors of the stake,
to which I felt myself borne daily nearer as they progressed
on their homeward route, appeared like a horrid
phantom.
It had been threatened me since my first effort to
was the inevitable consequence of my attempt.
The terrible heat of the days continued, and the road
they took was singularly barren of water. The Indians,
after drinking plentifully before starting, carry
little sticks in their mouths, which they chew constantly,
thus creating saliva, and preventing the
parching sensation I endured from the want of this
knowledge.
The seventh night they entered a singular cañon,
apparently well known to them, as they found horses
there, which evidently had been left on a former
visit.
I could not but wonder at the sagacity and patience
of these Indian ponies, which were content to wait their
master's coming, and browse about on the sparse herbage
and meager grass.
The Indians had killed an antelope that day, and a
piece of the raw flesh was allotted me for a meal. They
had then traveled in a circuitous route for miles, to
reach the mouth of this cañon, and entered it just after
sundown.
Its gloomy shade was a great relief after the heat of
the sun, and it filled my sensitive mind with awe. The
sun never seemed to penetrate its depths, and the damp
air rose around me like the breath of a dungeon.
Downward they went, as if descending into-the bowels
of the earth, and the sloping floor they trod was
mile.
Then they struck a rocky pavement, the perpendicular
walls of which were of earth; but as they made
another turning and entered a large space, they seemed
to change to stone with projecting arches and overhanging
cornices.
The high walls rose above the base so as to nearly
meet overhead, and, with their innumerable juttings
and irregularities, had the appearance of carved columns
supporting a mighty ruin.
Occasionally a faint ray of the fading light struggled
with the gloom, into which they plunged deeper and
deeper, and then their horses' cautious feet would turn
the bones of antelope or deer, drawn thither by the
lurking wolf to feed the young in their lair.
I was startled with dread at the sight, fearing that
they might be human bones, with which mine would
soon be mingled.
The increasing darkness had made it necessary for
the Indians to carry torches, which they did, lighting
up the grotesque grandeur of earth and rock through
which they passed by the weird glare of their waving
brands.
Arriving at the spot they selected as a camping-ground,
they made fires, whose fantastic gleams danced
upon the rocky walls, and added a magic splendor to
their wondrous tracery. The ghostly grandeur of these
effect is marvelous.
They seem to shadow forth the outline of carving
and sculpture, and in the uncertain fire-light have all
the effect of some old-time temple, whose art and
glory will live forever, even when its classic stones
are dust.
Here I found water for my parched lips, which was
more grateful to my weary senses than any natural
phenomenon; and sinking on a moss-grown rock, near
the trickling rill that sank away in the sand beyond,
I found slumber in that strange, fantastic solitude.
I was aroused by a whistling sound, and, gathering
myself up, looked fearfully around me. Two flaming
eyes seemed to pierce the darkness like a sword. I
shuddered and held my breath, as a long, lithe serpent
wound past me, trailing its shining length through
the damp sand, and moving slowly out of sight among
the dripping vines.
After that I slept no more; and when I saw the
struggling light of day pierce the rocky opening above,
I gladly hailed the safety of the sunshine, even though
it brought sorrow, distress, and toil.
When we rose in the morning, they left the cañon
by the path they entered, as it seemed to have no other
outlet, and then pursued their way.
| CHAPTER VII. Narrative of my captivity among the Sioux Indians. | |