Читать книгу Scenes and Adventures in the Semi-Alpine Region of the Ozark Mountains of Missouri and Arkansas - Henry Rowe Schoolcraft - Страница 11

Table of Contents

RESOLVE TO PROCEED FURTHER WEST—NIGHT VOYAGE ON THE MISSISSIPPI IN A SKIFF—AN ADVENTURE—PROCEED ON FOOT WEST TO THE MISSOURI MINES—INCIDENTS BY THE WAY—MINERS' VILLAGE OF SHIBBOLETH—COMPELLED BY A STORM TO PASS THE NIGHT AT OLD MINES—REACH POTOSI—FAVORABLE RECEPTION BY THE MINING GENTRY—PASS SEVERAL MONTHS IN EXAMINING THE MINES—ORGANIZE AN EXPEDITION TO EXPLORE WESTWARD—ITS COMPOSITION—DISCOURAGEMENTS ON SETTING OUT—PROCEED, NOTWITHSTANDING—INCIDENTS OF THE JOURNEY TO THE VALLEY OF LEAVES.

I was kindly received by some persons I had before known, particularly by a professional gentleman with whom I had descended the Alleghany river in the preceding month of March, who invited me to remain at his house. I had now proceeded about seventeen hundred miles from my starting-point in Western New York; and after passing a few days in examining the vicinity, and comparing facts, I resolved on the course it would be proper to pursue, in extending my journey further west and south-west. I had felt, for many years, an interest in the character and resources of the mineralogy of this part of what I better knew as Upper Louisiana, and its reported mines of lead, silver, copper, salt, and other natural productions. I had a desire to see the country which De Soto had visited, west of the Mississippi, and I wished to trace its connection with the true Cordillera of the United States—the Stony or Rocky mountains. My means for undertaking this were rather slender. I had already drawn heavily on these in my outward trip. But I felt (I believe from early reading) an irrepressible desire to explore this region. I was a good draughtsman, mapper, and geographer, a ready penman, a rapid sketcher, and a naturalist devoted to mineralogy and geology, with some readiness as an assayer and experimental chemist; and I relied on these as both aids and recommendations—as, in short, the incipient means of success.

When ready to embark on the Mississippi, I was joined by my two former companions in the ascent from the mouth of the Ohio. It was late in the afternoon of one of the hottest summer days, when we took our seats together in a light skiff at St. Louis, and pushed out into the Mississippi, which was still in flood, but rapidly falling, intending to reach Cahokia that night. But the atmosphere soon became overcast, and, when night came on, it was so intensely dark that we could not discriminate objects at much distance. Floating, in a light pine skiff, in the centre of such a stream, on a very dark night, our fate seemed suspended by a thread. The downward pressure of the current was such, that we needed not to move an oar; and every eye was strained, by holding it down parallel to the water, to discover contiguous snags, or floating bodies. It became, at the same time, quite cold. We at length made a shoal covered with willows, or a low sandy islet, on the left, or Illinois shore. Here, one of my Youghioghany friends, who had not yet got over his penchant for grizzly bears, returned from reconnoitering the bushes, with the cry of this prairie monster with a cub. It was too dark to scrutinize, and, as we had no arms, we pushed on hurriedly about a mile further, and laid down, rather than slept, on the shore, without victuals or fire. At daylight, for which we waited anxiously, we found ourselves nearly opposite Carondelet, to which we rowed, and where we obtained a warm breakfast. Before we had finished eating, our French landlady called for pay. Whether anything on our part had awakened her suspicions, or the deception of others had rendered the precaution necessary, I cannot say. Recruited in spirits by this meal, and by the opening of a fine, clear day, we pursued our way, without further misadventure, about eighteen miles, and landed at Herculaneum.

The next day, which was the last of July, I set out on foot for the mines, having directed my trunks to follow me by the first returning lead-teams. My course led through an open, rolling country, covered with grass, shrubs, and prairie flowers, and having but few trees. There was consequently little or no shade, and, the weather being sultry, I suffered much from heat and thirst. For the space of about twelve miles, the road ran over an elevated ridge, destitute of streams or springs. I did not meet an individual, nor see anything of the animal creation larger than a solitary wild turkey, which, during the hottest part of the day, came to contest with me for, or rather had previously reached, some water standing in a wagon-rut. I gained the head of the Joachim creek before nightfall, and, having taken lodgings, hastened down to a sheltered part of the channel to bathe, after which I enjoyed a refreshing night's sleep. The aboriginal name of this stream was "Zwashau," meaning pin-oak, as I was told by an old hunter whom I met.

The next day I was early on my way; and I soon began to discover, in the face of the country, evidences of its metalliferous character. Twelve miles brought me to the valley of Grand or Big river, one of the principal tributaries of the Maramec. In descending the high grounds, I observed numerous specimens of the brown oxide of iron; and after crossing the ferry, the mineral locally called mineral blossom, (radiated quartz,) of which I had noticed slight traces before, developed itself in fine specimens. The first mining village I came to, bore the name of Shibboleth. At this place there was a smelting furnace, of the kind called a log-furnace. Here I first saw heaps of the ore of lead commonly found. It is the sulphuret, of a broad glittering grain, and cubical fracture. It is readily smelted, being piled on logs of equal length, and adjusted in the before-named furnace, where it is roasted till the sulphur is driven off; when desulphurated, it melts, and the metal is received on an inclined plane and conducted into an orifice, from which it is ladled into moulds. From fifty to sixty per cent, is obtained in this way. Shibboleth is the property of John Smith T.; a man whose saturnine temper and disposition have brought him into collision with many persons, and given him a wide-spread notoriety both in Missouri and Tennessee.

I lingered along so leisurely, and stopped so often to examine objects by the way, that my progress was not rapid. I obtained some corn-bread and milk at a house, and pursued my journey to Old Mines, where a heavy storm of rain arose. I took shelter at a neighboring house, where I remained during the night. The next morning I walked into Potosi, and took lodgings at Mr. William Ficklin's. This gentleman was a native of Kentucky, where most of his life had been passed in the perils and adventures attending the early settlement of that State. His conversation was replete with anecdotes of perilous adventures which he had experienced; and I was indebted to him for some necessary practical points of knowledge in forest life, and precautions in travelling in an Indian country.

The day after my arrival was a local election day, for a representative from the county in the territorial legislature, to which Mr. Austin the younger was returned. This brought together the principal mining and agricultural gentlemen of the region, and was a circumstance of some advantage to me, in extending my acquaintance, and making known the objects of my visit. In this, the Austins, father and son, were most kind and obliging. Indeed, the spirit with which I was received by the landed proprietors of the country generally, and the frankness and urbanity of their manners and sentiments, inspired me with high hopes of success in making a mineralogical survey of the country.

I found the geological structure of the country, embracing the mines, to be very uniform. It consists of a metalliferous limestone, in horizontal strata, which have not been lifted up or disturbed from their horizontality by volcanic forces; but they have been exposed to the laws of disintegration and elemental action in a very singular manner. By this action, the surface of the formation has been divided into ridges, valleys, and hills, producing inequalities of the most striking and picturesque character.

There are some forty principal mines, in an area of about seventy miles by thirty or forty in breadth. The chief ore of lead smelted is galena. The associated minerals of most prominence are sulphate of barytes, sulphuret of zinc, calcareous spar, and crystallized quartz, chiefly in radiated crystals. I spent upwards of three months in a survey of the mines of chief consequence, noting their peculiarities and geological features. By far the most remarkable feature in the general structure of the country, consists of the existence of a granitical tract at the sources of the river St. Francis. This I particularly examined. The principal elevations consist of red sienite and greenstone, lying in their usual forms of mountain masses. The geological upheavals which have brought these masses to their present elevations, appear to have been of the most ancient character; for the limestones and crystalline sandstones have been deposited, in perfectly horizontal beds, against their sides.

Feeling a desire to compare this formation with the structure of the country west and south of it, extending to the Rocky mountains, and satisfied at the same time that these primary peaks constituted the mineral region of De Soto's most northerly explorations, I determined to extend my explorations south-westwardly. The term "Ozark mountains" is popularly applied to the broad and elevated highlands which stretch in this direction, reaching from the Maramec to the Arkansas. Having obtained the best information accessible from hunters and others who had gone farthest in that direction, I determined to proceed, as early as I could complete my arrangements for that purpose, to explore those elevations.

Colonel W. H. Ashley, who had penetrated into this region, together with several enterprising hunters and woodsmen, represented it as metalliferous, and abounding in scenes of varied interest. It had been the ancient hunting-ground of the Osages, a wild and predatory tribe, who yet infested its fastnesses; and it was represented as subject to severe risks from this cause. Two or three of the woodsmen, who were best acquainted with this tract, expressed a willingness to accompany me on a tour of exploration. I therefore, in the month of October, revisited St. Louis and Illinois, for the purpose of making final arrangements for the tour, and obtained the consent of Mr. Brigham and Mr. Pettibone, previously mentioned, to accompany me. A day was appointed for our assembling at Potosi. I then returned to complete my arrangements. I purchased a stout, low-priced horse, to carry such supplies as were requisite, made his pack-saddle with my own hands, and had it properly riveted by a smith. A pair of blankets for sleeping; a small, short-handled frying-pan; a new axe, a tin coffeepot, three tin cups, and the same number of tin plates; a couple of hunting-knives; a supply of lead, shot, ball, powder, and flints; a small smith's hammer, and nails for setting a horse-shoe; a horse-bell and strap; a pocket compass; a gun, shot-pouch, and appendages, containing a space for my diary; a mineral-hammer, constructed under my own directions, so as to embrace a small mortar on one face, and capable of unscrewing at the handle, which could be used as a pestle; a supply of stout clothing, a bearskin and oilcloth, some bacon, tea, sugar, salt, hard bread, &c., constituted the chief articles of outfit. The man of whom I purchased the horse called him by the unpoetic name of "Butcher."

It was the beginning of November before my friends arrived, and on the sixth of that month we packed the horse, and took our way over the mineral hills that surround Potosi, making our first encampment in a little valley, on the margin of a stream called Bates's creek.

It was fine autumn weather; the leaves of the forest were mostly sere, and the winds scattered them about us with an agreeable movement, as we wound among the hills. We were evidently following an old Indian trail, and, finding a rather tenable old wigwam, constructed of poles and bark, we pitched upon it as our first place of encampment. My kind host from Kentucky, with whom I had been staying, accompanied us thus far, to see us safely in the woods, and taught me the art of hobbling a horse, and tying on his night-bell. The hunters, who had talked rather vaingloriously of their prowess among wild animals and Osages, one by one found obstacles to impede their going. Finally, one of my companions was compelled to return, owing to a continued attack of fever and ague. I determined, nevertheless, to proceed, thinking that a hunter could be found to join us before quitting the verge of civilization. Having unpacked Butcher, prepared him for the night, stowed away the baggage, and built a fire, I took my gun and sallied out into the forest, while my companion prepared things for our supper. I found the greatest abundance of large black and grey squirrels in a neighboring wood, and returned with a number of the finest of them in season to add to our evening's meal.

A man's first night in the wilderness is impressive. Our friends had left us, and returned to Potosi. Gradually all sounds of animated nature ceased. When darkness closed around us, the civilized world seemed to have drawn its curtains, and excluded us. We put fresh sticks on the fire, which threw a rich flash of light on our camp, and finally wrapped ourselves in our blankets, and, amidst ruminations on the peculiarities of our position, our hopes, and our dangers, we sank to sleep.

Nov. 7th. The first thing listened for this morning was the tinkle of our horse's bell. But Butcher was gone. All my precautions had been in vain. The poor beast appeared to have had a presentiment of the hard fare that was before him, and, although his fore-feet were tethered, and he must lift up both together to jump, yet, having a strong recollection of the corn-fodder and juicy blades left behind him, he had made his way back to the mines. I immediately went in pursuit of him. He was easily tracked until he got to a space of rank herbage, where I lost the track, and hearing, at the same moment, a bell to the left, I pursued the sound over hill and through dale, till I came out at a farm-yard on Mine creek, four miles below Potosi, where I found the bell whose sound I had followed attached to the neck of a stately penned ox. The owner told me that Butcher had reached the mines, and been sent back to my camp by his former owner. I had nothing left but to retrace my steps, which, luckily, were but the shorter line of an acute triangle. I found him at the camp. It was, however, ten o'clock before our breakfast was despatched, and the horse repacked ready for starting. We took the labor of leading the horse, and carrying the compass and guiding, day about, so as to equalize these duties, and leave no cause for dissatisfaction. Our trail carried us across the succession of elevated and arid ridges called the Pinery. Not a habitation of any kind, nor the vestiges of one, was passed; neither did we observe any animal, or even bird. The soil was sterile, hard, and flinty, bearing yellow pines, with some oaks. Our general course was west-south-west. The day was mild and pleasant for the season. For a computed distance of fourteen miles, we encountered a succession of ascents and descents, which made us rejoice, as evening approached, to see a tilled valley before us. It proved to be the location of a small branch of the Maramec river, called by its original French name of Fourche â Courtois. The sun sank below the hills as we entered this valley. Some woodcock flew up as we reached the low ground; but as we had a cabin in view, and the day was far gone, we moved on toward our principal object. Presently the loud barking of dogs announced our approach; they seemed, by their clamor, as pertinacious as if two wolves or panthers were stealing on the tenement, till they were silenced by the loud commands of their master. It was a small log building, of the usual construction on the frontiers, and afforded the usual hospitality, and ready accommodations. They gave us warm cakes of corn-bread, and fine rich milk; and, spreading our blankets before the fire, we enjoyed sound slumbers. Butcher, here, had his last meal of corn, and made no attempt to escape.

Nov. 8th. With the earliest streaks of daylight we adjusted our pack for the horse, and again set forward on the trail. In the course of two miles' travel, we forded a stream called Law's Fork, and also the branch of the Maramec on which we had lodged the previous night. We soon after descried a hunter's cabin, a small and newly erected hut in the midst of the forest, occupied by a man named Alexander Roberts. This proved the last house we encountered, and was estimated to be twenty miles from Potosi. Some trees had been felled and laid around, partially burned; but not a spot of ground was in cultivation. Dogs, lean and hungry, heralded our approach, as in the former instance; and they barked loud and long. On reaching the cabin, we found that the man was not at home, having left it, his wife said, with his rifle, at an early hour, in search of game. She thought he would be back before noon, and that he would accompany us. We decided to await his return, and in the meanwhile prepared our frugal breakfast. In a short time, Roberts returned; he was a chunky, sinister-looking fellow, and reminded me of Ali Baba, in the "Forty Thieves." He had a short, greasy buckskin frock, and a pointed old hat. His wife, who peeped out of the door, looked queer, and had at least one resemblance to Cogia, which seemed to be "starvation." The hunter had killed nothing, and agreed to accompany us, immediately beginning his preparations. He at the same time informed us of the fear entertained of the Osages, and other matters connected with our journey in the contemplated direction. About ten o'clock he was ready, and, leading a stout little compact horse from a pen, he clapped a saddle on, seized his rifle, announced himself as ready, and led off. The trail led up a long ridge, which appeared to be the dividing ground between the two principal forks of the Maramec. It consisted of a stiff loam, filled with geological drift, which, having been burned over for ages by the Indians, to fit it for hunting in the fall of the year, had little carbonaceous soil left, and exhibited a hard and arid surface. Our general course was still west-south-west. After proceeding about four miles, our path came to the summit of an eminence, from which we descried the valley of the Ozau, or Ozark fork. This valley consisted entirely of prairie. Scarcely a tree was visible in it. The path wound down the declivity, and across the valley. The soil appeared to be fertile. Occupying one bank of the stream, nearly in the centre of the valley, we passed a cluster of Indian wigwams, inhabited alone by the old men, women, and children; the young men being absent, hunting. We found them to be Lenno-Lenapees, or, in other words, Delawares; being descendants of the Indians whom William Penn found, in 1682, in the pleasant forest village of Coacquannok, where Philadelphia now stands. Strange, but not extraordinary history! They have been shoved back by civilization, in the course of a hundred and thirty-six years' mutations, over the Alleghanies—over the Mississippi—into the spurs of these mountains. Where they will be after the lapse of a similar period, no one can say. But this can be said—that the hunting of deer will give out; and if they do not betake themselves to some other means of subsistence, they will be numbered among the nations that were.

Roberts informed me that four or five miles lower down the valley was a village of Shawnees, and, higher up, another village of Delawares.

On reaching the uplands on the west side of the valley, we pursued the trail up its banks about four or five miles, and encamped by daylight near a clump of bushes at a spring. As I was expert in striking and kindling a fire, this became a duty to which I devoted myself during the entire journey, while my companion busied himself in preparations for our repast. Roberts reconnoitred the vicinity, and came in with a report that we had reached a game country.

We were now fairly beyond the line of all settlements, even the most remote, and had entered on that broad highland tract to which, for geographical distinction, the name of Ozark mountains is applied. This tract reaches through Missouri and Arkansas, from the Maramec to the Wachita, and embraces the middle high lands between the plains at the foot of the Rocky mountains, and the rapids of the Maramec, St. Francis, Osage, White, Arkansas, and other principal streams; these traverse a belt of about two hundred miles east and west, by seven hundred miles north and south. It is a sort of Rheingau, through which the rivers burst.

Nov. 9th. Early in the morning, Roberts brought in the carcase of a fine deer; and we made our first meal on wild venison, cut fresh smoking from the tenderest parts, and roasted on sticks to suit our tastes. This put every one in the best of spirits, and we packed a supply of the meat for our evening's repast. Seeing that Roberts was more at home among the game, and that he had but a sorry knife for the business, I loaned him a fine new belt and knife, with its sheath, for the day. We now travelled up the Ozark fork about eighteen miles. The weather was exhilarating, and the winds were careering with the leaves of the forest, and casting them in profusion in our track. As we came near the sources of the river, we entered a wide prairie, perfectly covered for miles with these leaves, brought from neighboring forests. At every step the light masses were kicked or brushed away before us. This plain, or rather level vale, was crowned in the distance by elevations fringed with tall trees which still held some of their leafy honors, giving a very picturesque character to the landscape. I booked the scene at night, in my diary, as Cliola, or the Valley of Leaves. We held our way over the distant eminences, and at length found a spring by which we encamped, at a rather late hour. It had been a hazy and smoky day, like the Indian summer in Atlantic latitudes. We were in a region teeming with the deer and elk, which frequently bounded across our path. The crack of Roberts's rifle, also, added to the animation of the day's travel; though we might have known, from his unsteady bandit-eye, that he meditated something to our damage.