Читать книгу With the World's Great Travelers - Various - Страница 26

[Of the earlier records of English travel in America one of the most interesting and informing works is Featherstonhaugh’s “A Canoe Voyage up the Minnay Sotor,” a journey made by the author in 1835, and yielding much useful information on what is now the ancient history of the great West. The selection given is devoted to some of his prairie experiences during his journey through the Sioux country from Lac qui Parle to Lake Travers.]

Renville had procured me a charette, or cart, to carry the tent, baggage, and provisions. I was to ride an old gray mare, with a foal running alongside; one of the Canadians was to drive the charette, and Miler and the rest were to walk. The morning was exceeding cold, and our road was along the prairie parallel with the lake. All the country in every direction, having been burnt over, was perfectly black, and a disagreeable sooty odor filled the atmosphere. At the end of five hours of a very tedious march we reached a stream called Wahboptah, which may be translated Ground-nut river, the savages being in the habit of digging up the Psoralea esculenta, a nutritive bulbous root which grows here. The stream was about thirty feet wide, and had some trees growing on its banks. Having built up a good fire, the men proceeded to cook their dinner, while I strolled up the stream and collected some very fine unios, although I found it bitterly cold wading in the shallow water to procure them.

Having fed our horses on the grass near the stream which had not been burnt over, we started again for Les Grosses Isles, which we were instructed were distant about seven leagues, at the foot of Big Stone Lake. During the first two leagues the strong sooty smell of the country gave me a severe headache, and the weather became so cold that I was very uncomfortable; the fire, however, had not extended beyond this distance, for in about an hour and a half from our departure we came to the grass again, and I fortunately got rid of my headache. Our cavalry was exceedingly pleased by the change, the horses repeatedly winnowing to each other, as if to express their satisfaction. I here perceived a live gopher, or geomys, feebly running in the grass, and, dismounting, caught it. It apparently had strayed from its burrow, and had suffered from the weather. After examining it I let it go again, as it was impossible to take care of it, and I did not like to consign it to the men, as I knew they would kill and eat it, for they spared nothing.

As the evening advanced it became excessively cold, and a sharp wind, accompanied with frozen sleet, set in from the northeast: this soon became so thick that I could scarcely look up, much more see anything in the direction in which I was proceeding. Securing my person and ears as well as I could with my blanket coat, I left it to the mare—who Renville told me had been more than once to Lake Travers—to take her own course. At length the sleet became so dense that I lost sight of everybody except the little foal, which, generally lagging behind in the wake of its dam, occasionally trotted up to her when in her great anxiety she called for it. I never saw greater marks of maternal feeling in an animal than in this poor creature to her young one.

As we advanced my situation became exceedingly painful: the frozen sleet came in streams upon my face and eyes when I looked up; my feet and hands were so cold that I had scarcely any power over them; my whole exterior, as well as the head and neck of the mare, was covered with a glazing of ice; night was advancing, and we were without a guide, upon a dreary and shelterless moor of very great extent, and far beyond our present day’s journey, with no prospect of an abatement of the storm. In the course of a somewhat adventurous life I have occasionally had to meet with serious privations and to look danger rather steadily in the face, but I had never been where there was so slight a chance of any favorable change. I had not even the comfort before me that every bleak moor in England offers under similar circumstances to the imagination—some kind of shelter to receive us at last, if we were not overpowered by the inclemency of the weather. It became absolutely necessary to consider what it was best to do, if overtaken before dark by a deep snow.

My first thought was not to separate myself from my party, which I had not seen for some time, for they had the cart, the tent, and the provisions; and if we failed in our attempt to reach the few trees that grew near Grosses Isles—the only chance we had of finding materials to make fire—we could at any rate burn the charette, eat something, and cover ourselves as well as we could with the tent. This we inevitably should have to do if we missed the station we were aiming at, and of which there was imminent danger, as it was too thick for us to discern any trees at a distance. I therefore stopped the mare for a while and turned our backs to the storm, which seemed to be a great relief to us both. I had not heard the voices of the men for some time, but I knew the cart was slowly following me, and I thought it best to wait awhile ere I advanced towards them, as it was quite possible that I might deviate from the direction they were advancing in and separate myself from them altogether.

In about a quarter of an hour the voices of the men answered to the shouts I had from time to time made, and soon after they joined me, all of them covered with ice and icicles. The men were afraid we had got into the wrong track, having passed one or two that forked different ways, and this would have been a most serious misfortune. Upon appealing to Miler, who was covered with ice, his answer was, “N’ayez pas peur, monsieur; n’ayez pas peur.” I was well aware that this opinion of a sagacious guide like himself, trained to all the difficulties and incidents of Indian life, was better than that of the others, and I had more confidence in his prudence and in his conduct than I had in them; but still I was not without fear that darkness would overtake us; and if it had been left to myself, should have been inclined to attempt to set up the tent while it was daylight.

But Miler kept walking on before the charette, acting up to his character of guide in the most thorough manner. I determined, therefore, to be governed altogether by him, and taking my place in the rear of the charette, thought that, as I had now joined my party, I would alight, and endeavor, by running a little, to restore the circulation of my limbs; but my feet and hands were so benumbed that I found it even difficult to dismount, or to stand when I reached the ground. As to the poor mare, she had icicles depending from her nose six or eight inches long, which I broke off; and holding the bridle under my right arm, and averting my face a little from the storm, I tried to run and draw her into a gentle trot, but it was all in vain; she was too anxious about her foal, which was tired and becoming weak, and could scarce come up to her when she called it. Full of anxiety as I was about myself, I could not but admire the solicitude of this good mother for her young, so earnestly does the voice of nature plead even with the inferior animals; that voice which God has planted in ourselves, no less for the safety of the species we are bound to protect than to express the intensity of the love we bear to our offspring.

After trying in vain to get the mare out of her snail’s pace without at all improving my own situation, I perceived that I must be making leeway, for I had lost sight of the charette, so I determined to mount again and push her into a trot; we had got up a quasi-trot in the morning, and I hoped I might succeed in doing it again, but it took me a long time to do it. I was so benumbed that I could not regain my seat in the saddle until I had made several efforts, and then the adjusting my blanket-coat, and the covering my face to protect it from the cutting sleet, lost me so much time, that I was in a worse situation than ever—separated from my party, night approaching, and somewhat apprehensive that in the gray light that was beginning to prevail I might wander from them and be unable to rejoin them. Being already half frozen, and feeling rather faint at my stomach, it was clear to me that in that case I should certainly be frozen to death.

Getting on as well as I could, and ruminating very unsatisfactorily upon these possible consequences, the storm began to abate, and the wind veered to the northwest; the mare knew this, and gave immediate signs of it by improving her pace. As we went on the weather began to clear up, and as I was straining my eyes to look for the charette, I heard the horse which drew it neigh several times; to this the mare immediately answered, and soon after came a cheer from the men. Miler was soon seen advancing to meet me, with the joyful intelligence that the trees at Grosses Isles were in sight. He said the horse in the charette was the first to see them and to announce the discovery by neighing; so that, although horses have not yet reached the art, as some asses have done, of making long speeches, yet the epithet of dumb animals is not altogether appropriate to them.

All our anxieties were now at an end, and we soon terminated this distressing ride, and reached a spot near a marsh, where three or four trees were standing. Fortunately for us, there was some dead wood on the ground, and some wild grass for the horses, which we immediately proceeded to tether and turn loose, that they might choose their own bite, for the night was too cold for them to stray far. Whilst the men were collecting wood and pitching the tent, I endeavored to produce a light, but my fingers were so benumbed that, after breaking several matches, I gave up the attempt, and began to run backward and forward, and strike my hands together, to restore my natural warmth. The sickness at my stomach from exposure and inanition now increased upon me, and I felt persuaded that I should have perished if I had been obliged to lie out on the prairie without a fire. At length, the men having got a fire up, I gradually recovered from my indisposition, and having eaten part of a biscuit felt much better. I was sorry, however, to receive bad accounts from the men about the water, which we so much wanted to make soup for themselves and for my tea. It appeared that the only water that was to be obtained was from a hole in the swamp, and that it was as black as ink. On inspecting it, it was so thick and disgusting that I thought it impossible to use it, but remembering the saying of an old French fellow-traveller, “Que tout est bon, quand il n’y a pas de choix,” and knowing that nothing but a cup of tea would thoroughly revive me, and unwilling to send Miler a mile in the dark to Big Stone Lake to obtain clear water, I determined to make the best I could of it.

I had a large pot therefore filled, and boiled it, skimming it as the black scum came in immense quantities to the top, and having exhausted it of everything of that kind that it would yield, the very notable idea struck me to put a quantity of it into my kettle with some black tea and boil it over again, which I did, and really, when I poured it out it looked so like strong black tea, and was so good and refreshing, that I soon forgot everything about it except that it had restored me to life and animation. How many dead newts and other animals that had perished in the desiccation of the swamp that had attended the late drought went to form this tea-broth would not be easily calculated, but I forgave them and the sires that begot them.

Whilst we were at our meal, a half-perished Nahcotah Indian came to our fire, whom I saw at the dance of the braves the day before. I remembered him the moment he came up, from his having attracted my attention during the dance by firing his gun over the heads of the dancers, and then presenting it to one of the braves. Miler had informed me that it was not unusual upon such occasions for savages who look on to become so excited as to give everything away that they have. This was what this poor devil had done; he had parted with his gun and all his little property, and was now going a journey of six or eight days to the Cheyenne River to kill buffalo, without any arms, and without anything to eat by the way. Some one had given him an old pistol without a lock to it, and seating himself by the fire without saying a word, he after a while pulled it out, and asked Miler if I would repair it, and give him some powder and ball? I told Miler to inform him that people could not make locks for pistols when they were travelling on the prairie in such stormy weather, but that I would give him something to eat, and directed the men to give him some of the pork and biscuit out of their pot, which he seemed to enjoy very much.

Feeling once more comfortable after a hearty supper, I entered my tent, and remained there to a late hour bringing up my notes, which I had few opportunities of doing at Lac qui Parle. Before I lay down I could not help contrasting the cheerless prospect before me at sunset and the suffering I experienced with the cheerful state of mind and body I had now returned to, and for which I trust I was most sincerely grateful to God, who had preserved me in continued health and safety. I felt completely wound up again, and ready to go on for any length of time, especially with the reasonable prospect of a good night’s rest before me.

Such are the agreeable excitements attending this kind of life, to those who can enter without prejudice into the spirit of it. Certainly, whilst your progress is successful, it is delightful. You have plenty to eat, and you enjoy what you eat; you are amused and instructed; it is true it is often cold, but then it is not always so. You encamp when you please; you cut down as large a tree as you please, and you make as large a fire of it as you please, without fearing an action of trespass. You kill deer out of any park you are passing through without being questioned, and you have the rare privilege of leaving your night’s lodging without calling for the landlord’s bill. All law and government proceed from yourself; and the great point upon which everything turns is the successful management of the party you are the head of. Prudence, consistency, firmness, and a little generosity now and then by way of condiment, will carry such a traveller through everything.

But there is a reverse to the picture. Days and nights exposed to cold, soaking rains; want of food and water; unavoidable exaggeration of danger; painful solicitude for those dear to and absent from you, and most anxious moments when you occasionally feel that prudence is scarcely sufficient to insure your safety. Even the intense and curious impatience to push on in the face of apparent danger makes you at times feel a remorse on account of those you are leading into it. Such are the contrasts of feeling by which the wanderer in these distant regions, still unvisited by a ray of civilization, is frequently agitated.

[Reaching Lake Travers, one of the sources of the Red River of the North, he found quarters with Mr. Brown, the resident factor of the American Fur Company.]

After breakfast Mr. Brown showed me some very rare furs he possessed—several very fine grizzly bear-skins (Ursus ferox), one of which was a bright yellow, a rare variety. He had also an exceedingly large and rich otter-skin, which, with many other things, I purchased of him. But my most valuable acquisition here was made from an Assiniboin chief, who came in about an hour before I departed. This was a fine bow, made of bone and wood, with a cord of very strong sinew. The chief had performed a feat with it for which Wanetáh, a Nahcotah chief, had been celebrated. He had killed two buffaloes that were galloping on a parallel with his own horse at one draft of his arrow, it having passed through the first and inflicted a mortal wound upon the second.

The chief was very unwilling to part with it. We tried him several times in vain, and at length I offered him five gold-pieces, or twenty-five dollars. “Máhzázhee! Héeyah!” “Yellow iron! No!” he replied. At last Mr. Brown produced some brilliant scarlet cloth. The sight of it overcame his reluctance; it would make such beautiful leggings, and his squaws would be so delighted with it! So I gave him three yards of the cloth, and he delivered me the bow, a quiver of arrows, and a skin case, which contained it. Mr. Brown, of course, got his share of the amount, though he acted very fairly with me. Money is unknown to these savages, and they place no value upon it. He would not have taken twenty of these gold-pieces for his bow, but thought he had made a good bargain with it for the cloth, although I have no doubt Mr. Brown would have sold it to any one for ten dollars. It was an affair of barter, where both parties were satisfied, which, under similar circumstances, is perhaps the best definition of value.