Scenes and Adventures in the Semi-Alpine Region of the Ozark Mountains of Missouri and Arkansas Part 5

By this time we had cooked the other turkey for breakfast, which just sufficed for the occasion. The five men pa.s.sed a few moments about the fire, then suddenly caught and saddled their horses, and, mounting together, bid us good morning, and rode off. We were taken quite aback by this movement, supposing that they would have felt under obligation, as they had been paid for it, to furnish us some provisions. We looked intently after them, as they rode up the long sloping eminence to the north of us. They brought forcibly to my mind the theatrical representation, in the background, of the march of the Forty Thieves, as they wind down the mountain, before they present themselves at the front of the cave, with its charmed gates. But there was no "open sesame!" for us. Cast once more on our own resources in the wilderness, the alternative seemed to be pressed upon our minds, very forcibly, "hunt or starve." Serious as the circ.u.mstances appeared, yet, when we reflected upon their manners and conversation, their obtuseness to just obligation, their avarice, and their insensibility to our actual wants, we could not help rejoicing that they were gone.

Dec. 3d. Left alone, we began to reflect closely on our situation, and the means of extricating ourselves from this position. If we had called it camp "No" from our disappointment at not finding it inhabited on our first arrival, it was now again appropriately camp "No," from not obtaining adequate relief from the hunters. We had procured a dressed buckskin for making moccasins. We had a little pounded corn, in a shape to make hunters' bread. We had not a mouthful of meat. I devoted part of the day to making a pair of Indian shoes. We had not a single charge of shot left. We had procured lead enough to mould just five bullets. This I carefully did. I then sallied out in search of game, scanning cautiously the neighboring canebrake, and fired, at different times, three b.a.l.l.s, unsuccessfully, at turkeys. It was evident, as I had the birds within range, that my gun had been sprung in the heavy fall I had had, as before related, in the crossing Calamarca. My companion then took _his_ gun, and also made an unsuccessful shot. When evening approached, a flock of turkeys came to roost near by. We had now just _one_ ball left; everything depended on _that_. I took it to the large and firm stump of an oak, and cut it into exactly thirty-two pieces, with geometrical precision. I then beat the angular edges of each, until they a.s.sumed a sufficiently globular shape to admit of their being rolled on a hard surface, under a pressure. This completed their globular form. I then cleansed my companion's gun, and carefully loaded it with the thirty-two shot. We then proceeded to the roost, which was on some large oaks, in a contiguous valley. I carried a torch, which I had carefully made at the camp. My companion took the loaded gun, and I, holding the torch near the sights at the same time, so that its rays fell directly on the birds, he selected one, and fired. It proved to be one of the largest and heaviest, and fell to the earth with a sound. We now returned to camp, and prepared a part of it for supper, determining to husband the remainder so as to last till we should reach settlements by holding a due west course.

Dec. 4th. We had prepared ourselves to start west this day; but it rained from early dawn to dark, which confined us closely to our cabin.

Rain is one of the greatest annoyances to the woodsman. Generally, he has no shelter against it, and must sit in it, ride in it, or walk in it. Where there is no shelter, the two latter are preferable. But, as we had a split-board roof, we kept close, and busied ourselves with more perfect preparations for our next sally. I had some minerals that admitted of being more closely and securely packed, and gladly availed myself of the opportunity to accomplish it. Our foot and leg gear, also, required renovating. Experience had been our best teacher from the first; and hunger and danger kept us perpetually on the _qui vive_, and made us wise in little expedients.

FOOTNOTE:

[8] Elision of Pettibone.

CHAPTER VII.

PROCEED WEST--BOG OUR HORSE--CROSS THE KNIFE HILLS--REACH THE UNICA, OR WHITE RIVER--ABANDON THE HORSE AT A HUNTER'S, AND PROCEED WITH PACKS--OBJECTS OF PITY--SUGAR-LOAF PRAIRIE-- CAMP UNDER A CLIFF--FORD THE UNICA TWICE--DESCEND INTO A CAVERN--REACH BEAVER RIVER, THE HIGHEST POINT OF OCCUPANCY BY A HUNTER POPULATION.

Dec. 5th. The rain ceased during the night, and left us a clear atmosphere in the morning. At an early hour we completed the package of the horse, and, taking the reins, I led him to the brink of the river, and with difficulty effected a pa.s.sage. The cliffs which formed the western side of the valley, presented an obstacle not easily surmounted.

By leading the animal in a zigzag course, however, this height was finally attained. The prospect, as far as the eye could reach, was discouraging. Hill on hill rose before us, with little timber, it is true, to impede us, but implying a continual necessity of crossing steeps and depressions. After encountering this rough surface about two miles, we came into a valley having a stream tributary to the Great North Fork of White river, which we had quitted that morning, but at a higher point. In this sub-valley we found our way impeded by another difficulty--namely, the brush and small canes that grew near the brook.

To avoid this impediment, I took the horse across a low piece of ground, having a thicket, but which appeared to be firm. In this I was mistaken; for the animal's feet soon began to sink, and ere long he stuck fast.

The effort to extricate him but served to sink him deeper, and, by pawing to get out, he continually widened the slough in which he had sunk. We then obtained poles, and endeavored to pry him up; but our own footing was continually giving way, and we at length beheld him in a perfect slough of soft black mud. After getting his pack off, we decided to leave him to his fate. We carried the pack to dry ground, on one side of the valley, and spread the articles out, not without deeply regretting the poor beast's plight. But then it occurred to us that, if the horse were abandoned, we must also abandon our camp-kettle, large axe, beds, and most of our camp apparatus; and another and concentrated effort was finally resolved on. To begin, we cut down two tall saplings, by means of which the horse was pried up from the bottom of the slough.

He was then grasped by the legs and turned over, which brought his feet in contact with the more solid part of the ground. A determined effort, both of horse and help, now brought him to his feet. He raised himself up, and, by pulling with all our might, we brought him on dry ground. I then led him gently to our place of deposit, and, by means of bunches of sere gra.s.s, we both busied ourselves first to rub off the mud and wet, and afterwards to groom him, and rub him dry. When he was properly restored, it was found that he was able to carry his pack-saddle and pack; and he was led slowly up the valley about three miles, where we encamped. The gra.s.s in this little valley was of a nouris.h.i.+ng quality, and by stopping early we allowed him to recruit himself. We did not estimate our whole distance this day at more than nine miles.

Dec. 6th. Butcher had improved his time well in the tender gra.s.s during the night, and presented a more spirited appearance in the morning. We were now near the head of Bogbrook, which we had been following; and as we quitted its sides, long to be remembered for our mishap, we began to ascend an elevated and bleak tract of the Mocama or Knife hills, so called, over which the winds rushed strongly as we urged our way. Few large trees were seen on these eminences, which were often bare, with a hard cherty footing, replaced sometimes by cl.u.s.ters of brambles and thickets. In one of these, a valuable _couteau de cha.s.se_ was swept from its sheath at my side, and lost. I was now reduced to a single knife, of the kind fabricated for the Indians, under the name of scalper. For a distance of sixteen miles we held on our way, in a west-south-west course, turning neither to the right nor left. As night approached, we found ourselves descending into a considerable valley, caused by a river. The shrubbery and gra.s.s of its banks had been swept by fire in the fall, and a new crop of gra.s.s was just rising. We formed our encampment in this fire-swept area, which afforded Butcher another benefit, and made some amends for his scanty fare among the bleak eminences of the Ozarks. This stream proved to be the Little North Fork of White river. We here despatched the last morsel of our turkey.

Dec. 7th. The ascent of the hills which bounded the valley on the south-west was found to be very difficult; and when the summit was reached, there spread before us an extensive prairie, of varied surface.

Trees occasionally appeared, but were in no place so thickly diffused as to prevent the growth of a beautiful carpet of prairie gra.s.s. When we had gone about six miles, a bold mound-like hill rose on our left, which seemed a favorable spot for getting a view of the surrounding country.

We had been told by the hunters that in travelling fifteen miles about west, we should reach a settlement at Sugar-loaf Prairie, on the main channel of the Unica or White river. But on reaching the summit of this natural look-out, we could descry nothing that betokened human habitation. As far as the eye could reach, prairies and groves filled the undulating vista. On reaching its foot again, where our horse was tied, we changed our course to the south, believing that our directions had been vague. We had gone about a mile in this direction, when we entered a faint and old horse-path. This gave animation to our steps. We pursued it about three miles, when it fell into another and plainer path, having the fresh tracks of horses. We were now on elevated ground, which commanded views of the country all around. Suddenly the opposite side of a wide valley appeared to open far beneath us, and, stepping forward the better to scan it, the river of which we were in search presented its bright, broad, and placid surface to our view, at several hundred feet below. We stood admiringly on the top of a high, rocky, and precipitous cliff. Instinctively to shout, was my first impulse. My companion, as he came up, also shouted. We had reached the object of our search.

Pursuing the brow of the precipice about a mile, a log building and some fields were discovered on the opposite bank. On descending the path whose traces we had followed, it brought us to a ford. We at once prepared to cross the river, which was four or five hundred yards wide, reaching, in some places, half-leg high. On ascending the opposite bank, we came to the house of a Mr. M'Garey, who received us with an air of hospitality, and made us welcome to his abode. He had several grown sons, who were present, and who, as we found by their costume and conversation, were hunters. Mrs. M'G. was engaged in trying bears' fat, and in due time she invited us to sit down to a meal of these sc.r.a.ps, with excellent corn-bread and sa.s.safras tea, with sugar and milk, served in cups.

M'Garey had a bluff frankness of manner, with an air of independence in the means of living, and an individuality of character, which impressed us favorably. He told us that we were eight hundred miles west of the Mississippi by the stream, that White river was navigable by keel-boats for this distance, and that there were several settlements on its banks.

He had several acres in cultivation in Indian corn, possessed horses, cows, and hogs, and, as we observed at the door, a hand-mill. At a convenient distance was a smokehouse, where meats were preserved. I observed a couple of odd volumes of books on a shelf. He was evidently a pioneer on the Indian land. He said that the Cherokees had been improperly located along the western bank of White river, extending to the Arkansas, and that the effect was to r.e.t.a.r.d and prevent the purchase and settlement of the country by the United States. He complained of this, as adverse to the scattered hunters, who were anxious to get t.i.tles for their lands. He did not represent the Cherokees as being hostile, or as having committed any depredations. But he depicted the Osages as the scourge and terror of the country. They roamed from the Arkansas to the Missouri frontier, and pillaged whoever fell in their way. He detailed the particulars of a robbery committed in the very house we were sitting in, when they took away horses, clothes, and whatever they fancied. They had visited him in this way twice, and recently stole from him eight beaver-skins; and during their last foray in the valley, they had robbed one of his neighbors, called Teen Friend, of all his arms, traps, and skins, and detained him a prisoner. This tribe felt hostile to all the settlers on the outskirts of Missouri and Arkansas, and were open robbers and plunderers of all the whites who fell defenceless into their hands. They were, he thought, particularly to be dreaded in the region which we proposed to explore. He also said that the Osages were hostile to the newly-arrived Cherokees, who had migrated from the east side of the Mississippi, and had settled in the country between the Red river and Arkansas, and that these tribes were daily committing trespa.s.ses upon each other. Having myself, but a short time before, noticed the conclusion of a peace between the western Cherokees and Osages at St. Louis, before General Clark, I was surprised to hear this; but he added, as an ill.u.s.tration of this want of faith, that when the Cherokees returned from that treaty, they pursued a party of Osages near the banks of White river, and stole twenty horses from them.

Dec. 8th. On comparing opinions, for which purpose we had an interview outside the premises, it seemed that these statements were to be received with some grains of allowance. They were natural enough for a victim of Indian robberies, and doubtless true; but the events had not been recent, and they were not deemed sufficient to deter us from proceeding in our contemplated tour to the higher Ozarks at the sources of the river. It was evident that we had erred a good deal from our stick bridge at Calamarca, from the proper track; but we were nevertheless determined not to relinquish our object.

Having obtained the necessary information, we determined to pursue our way, for which purpose we turned the horse to graze with M'Garey's, rid ourselves of all our heavy baggage by depositing it with him, and prepared our knapsacks for this new essay. When ready, our host refused to take any pay for his hospitalities, but, conducting us to his smokehouse, opened the door, and then, drawing his knife from its sheath, placed it, with an air of pomposity, in my hand, offering the handle-end, and said, "Go in and cut." I did so, taking what appeared to be sufficient to last us to our next expected point of meeting hunters.

The place was well filled with buffalo and bear meat, both smoked and fresh, hanging on cross-bars.

At nine o'clock we bade our kind entertainer adieu, and, taking directions to reach Sugar-loaf Prairie, crossed over the river by the same ford which we had taken in our outward track from Camp No, in the valley of the Great North Fork. Relieved from the toilsome task of leading the horse, we ascended the opposite cliffs with alacrity, and vigorously pursued our course, over elevated ground, for about sixteen miles. The path then became obscure; the ground was so flinty and hard, that it was in vain we searched for tracks of horses' feet. Some time was lost in this search, and we finally encamped in a cane bottom in the river valley.

My companion had again charged himself with the coffeepot, which he carried in a similar manner at his back; and when I came to open my pack, told me he thought I had not cut deep enough into the dried bear's meat of M'Garey's smokehouse. To a man who refused all pay, and had been invariably kind, I felt that moderation, in this respect, was due. I was, besides, myself to be the carrier of it; and we, indeed, never had cause to regret the carefulness of my selection.

Dec. 9th. Finding ourselves in the river's bottom, we forced our way, with no small effort, through the thick growth of cane and vines. We had, perhaps, advanced seven miles through this dense vegetation, when we suddenly burst into a small cleared s.p.a.ce. Here, in a little, incomplete shanty, we found a woman and her young child. She had not a morsel to eat, and looked half famished. Her husband had gone into the forest to hunt something to eat. The child looked feeble. We were touched at the sight, and did all we could to relieve them. They had been in that position of new-comers about two weeks, having come up from the lower parts of the river.

From this point, we ascended the river hills eastwardly, and pursued our journey along an elevated range to the Sugar-loaf Prairie--a name which is derived from the striking effects of denudation on the limestone cliffs, which occupy the most elevated positions along this valley. We were received with blunt hospitality by a tall man in leather, called c.o.ker, whose manner appears to be characteristic of the hunter. Our approach was heralded by the usual loud and long barking of dogs, and we found the premises surrounded by the invariable indications of a successful hunter--skins of the bear and other animals, stretched out on frames to dry.

We were no sooner at home with our entertainer, than he began to corroborate what we had before heard of the hostility of the Osages. He considered the journey at this season hazardous, as he thought they had not yet broke up their fall hunting-camps, and retired to their villages on the Grand Osaw (Osage). He also thought it a poor season for game, and presented a rather discouraging prospect to our view. My gun having proved useless, we tried to obtain a rifle which he possessed, and seemed willing to part with, but not at a reasonable price.

Mr. c.o.ker represented the settlers of Sugar-loaf Prairie to consist of four families, situated within the distance of eight miles, including both banks of the river. This was exclusive of two families living at Beaver creek, the highest point yet occupied.

Dec. 10th. It was noon before we were prepared to depart from c.o.ker's.

The old man refused to take anything for our meals and lodging; and we bade him adieu, after taking his directions as to the best route to pursue to reach Beaver creek, our next point. We travelled through a lightly-timbered, hilly, barren country, about eight miles, when the skies became overcast, and some rain fell. It was still an early hour to encamp, but we came at this time into a small ravine, with running water, which had on one bank a shelving cave in the limestone rock, forming a protection from the rain. We built a fire from red cedar, which emitted a strong aromatic odor. The weather begins to a.s.sume a wintry character; this is the first day we have been troubled with cold fingers.

Dec. 11th. We left our camp at the cave on Cedar brook, and resumed our march at an early hour, and found the face of the country still rough and undulating, but covered, to a great extent, with brush. My companion thought we had gone far enough to have struck the waters of the Beaver, and, as he carried the compa.s.s this day, he deviated westward from the intended course. This brought us to the banks of a river, which he insisted, contrary to my opinion, must be the Beaver. To me this did not seem probable, but, yielding the point to him, we forded the stream at waist deep. We then ascended a lofty and difficult range of river hills, and, finding ourselves now at the level of the country, we held on in a westerly course, till it became clearly evident, even to my companion, that we were considerably west of the White river. We then retraced our steps, descended the river hills to the bank of the stream, and followed up its immediate margin, in search of a convenient spot for encampment; for, by this time, night approached rapidly. We were soon arrested by a precipitous cliff, against the base of which the river washed. As the sun sank lower, we felt a keen and cold wind, but could not find a stick of wood on the western bank with which to kindle a fire. The alternative presented to us was, either to remain here all night without a fire, exposed to the chilling blast, or cross a deep stream to the opposite sh.o.r.e, where there was an extensive alluvial plain, covered with trees and the cane plant, and promising an abundance of fuel.

Night had already closed around us, when we decided to cross the river.

We found it to be four or five feet deep, and some two hundred yards wide. When we got over, it was with great difficulty that we succeeded in collecting a sufficiency of dry materials to kindle a fire; and by the time we had accomplished it, our wet clothes had become stiff and cold, the wind at the same time blowing very fiercely. Our utmost efforts were required to dry and warm ourselves, nor did we attain these points in a sufficient degree to secure a comfortable night's rest.

Dec. 12th. The ground this morning was covered with white h.o.a.r-frost, with a keen and cold air, and a wintry sky. Early daylight found us treading our way across the low grounds to the cliffs. We soon ascended on an elevated rocky sh.o.r.e, bordering the river, which was completely denuded of trees and shrubbery. It was early, the sun not having yet risen, when we beheld before us, rising out of the ground, a column of air which appeared to be of a warmer temperature. Its appearance was like that of smoke from a chimney on a frosty morning. On reaching it, the phenomenon was found to be caused by a small orifice in the earth, from which rarefied air issued. On looking down intently, and partially excluding the light, it was seen to be a fissure in the limestone rock, with jagged, narrow sides, leading down into a cavern. I determined to try the descent, and found the opening large enough to admit my body.

Feeling for a protuberance on which to rest my feet, and closely pressing the sides of the orifice, I slowly descended. My fear was that the crevice would suddenly enlarge, and let me drop. But I descended in safety. I thus let myself down directly about twenty feet, and came to the level floor of a gallery which led in several directions. The light from above was sufficient to reveal the dark outlines of a ramified cavern, and to guide my footsteps for a distance. I went as far in the largest gallery as the light cast any direct rays, but found nothing at all on the floor or walls to reward my adventure. It was a notable fissure in a carbonate of lime, entirely dry, and without stalact.i.tes.

What I most feared in these dim recesses, was some carnivorous animal, for whose residence it appeared to be well adapted. Having explored it as far as I could command any light to retrace my steps, I returned to the foot of the original orifice. I found no difficulty, by pressing on each side, in ascending to the surface, bringing along a fragment of the limestone rock. I afterwards observed, while descending the river, that this cavern was in a high, precipitous part of the coast, of calcareous rock, the foot of which was washed by the main channel of White river.

We now resumed our march, and, at the distance of about six miles, reached Beaver creek, a mile or two above its mouth. It is a beautiful, clear stream, of sixty yards wide, with a depth of two feet, and a hard, gravelly bottom. We forded it, and, keeping down the bank, soon fell into a horse-path, which led us, in following it about a mile and a half, to a hunter's dwelling, occupied by a man named Fisher. He received us in a friendly manner, and we took up our abode with him. Six or eight hundred yards higher, there was another cabin, occupied by a man named Holt. Both had been but a short time located at this place; they had not cleared any ground, nor even finished the log houses they occupied. Both buildings were on the bank of the river, on the edge of a large and very fertile bottom, well wooded, and with a very picturesque coast of limestone opposite, whose denuded pinnacles had received the name of the Little Tower.

CHAPTER VIII.

OBSTACLE PRODUCED BY THE FEAR OF OSAGE HOSTILITY--MEANS PURSUED TO OVERCOME IT--NATURAL MONUMENTS OF DENUDATION IN THE LIMESTONE CLIFFS--PURITY OF THE WATER--PEBBLES OF YELLOW JASPER--COMPLETE THE HUNTERS' CABINS--A JOB IN JEWELLERY--CONSTRUCT A BLOWPIPE FROM CANE--WHAT IS THOUGHT OF RELIGION.

Dec. 13th. Holt and Fisher were the highest occupants of the White river valley. They had reached this spot about four months before, and had brought their effects partly on pack-horses, and partly in canoes. The site was judiciously chosen. A finer tract of rich river bottom could not have been found, while the site commanded an illimitable region, above and around it, for hunting the deer, buffalo, elk, and other species, besides the beaver, otter, and small furred animals, which are taken in traps. We tried, at first vainly, to persuade them to accompany us in our further explorations. To this they replied that it was Osage hunting-ground, and that tribe never failed to plunder and rob all who fell in their power, particularly hunters and trappers. And besides, they were but recent settlers, and had not yet completed their houses and improvements.

As we were neither hunters nor trappers, we had no fears of Osage hostility; for this was, in a measure, the just retribution of that tribe for an intrusion on their lands, and the destruction of its game, which const.i.tuted its chief value to them. Nor did we antic.i.p.ate encountering them at all, at this season, as they must have withdrawn, long ere this, to their villages on the river Osage.

Dec. 14th. There appears no other way to induce the hunters to go with us, but to aid them in completing their cottages and improvements. This we resolved to do. Holt then agreed to accompany us as a guide and huntsman, with the further stipulation that he was to have the horse which had been left at M'Garey's, and a small sum of money, with liberty also to undertake a journey to the settlements below for corn. Hereupon, Fisher also consented to accompany us.

Dec. 15th. This obstacle to our movements being overcome, we busied ourselves in rendering to the hunters all the a.s.sistance in our power, and made it an object to show them that we could do this effectively. We began by taking hold of the frow and axe, and aiding Holt to split boards for covering a portion of the roof of his house. I doubt whether my companion had ever done the like work before; I am sure I never had; but having thrown myself on this adventure, I most cheerfully submitted to all its adverse incidents.

Dec. 16th. This morning, Holt and Fisher--the latter accompanied by his son, with three horses--set out on their journey to purchase corn, leaving us, in the interim, to provide fuel for their families; a labor by no means light, as the cold was now severe, and was daily growing more intense. To-day, for the first time, we observed floating ice in the river; and, even within the cabins, water exposed in vessels for a few moments, acquired a thin coating of ice.

Dec. 17th. At daybreak we built a substantial, rousing fire in the cabin, of logs several feet long; we then pounded the quant.i.ty of corn necessary for the family's daily use. This process brings the article into the condition of coa.r.s.e grits, which are boiled soft, and it then bears the name of h.o.m.ony. Of this nutritious dish our meals generally consist, with boiled or fried bear's bacon, and a decoction of sa.s.safras tea. The fat of the bear is very white and delicate, and appears to be more digestible than fresh pork, which is apt to cloy in the stomach.

After breakfast, wis.h.i.+ng to give the hunters evidence of our capacity of being useful, we took our axes and sallied out into the adjoining wood, and began to fell the trees, cut them into proper lengths for firewood, and pile the brush. About five o'clock, we were summoned to our second meal, which is made to serve as dinner and supper. We then carried up the quant.i.ty of firewood necessary for the night. This consumed the remainder of the short December day; and, before lying down for the night, we replenished the ample fire. This sketch may serve as an outline of our daily industry, during the eleven days we tarried with the hunters.