The West; in the
meantime, the sufferings of both men and horses had been
excessive, and it was with almost frantic eagerness that they
hurried to allay their burning thirst in the limpid current of
the river.
Fontenelle and his party had not fared much better; the chief
part had managed to reach the river by nightfall, but were nearly
knocked up by the exertion; the horses of others sank under them,
and they were obliged to pass the night upon the road.
On the following morning, July 27th, Fontenelle moved his camp
across the river; while Captain Bonneville proceeded some little
distance below, where there was a small but fresh meadow yielding
abundant pasturage. Here the poor jaded horses were turned out to
graze, and take their rest: the weary journey up the mountains
had worn them down in flesh and spirit; but this last march
across the thirsty plain had nearly finished them.
The captain had here the first taste of the boasted strategy of
the fur trade. During his brief, but social encampment, in
company with Fontenelle, that experienced trapper had managed to
win over a number of Delaware Indians whom the captain had
brought with him, by offering them four hundred dollars each for
the ensuing autumnal hunt. The captain was somewhat astonished
when he saw these hunters, on whose services he had calculated
securely, suddenly pack up their traps, and go over to the rival
camp. That he might in some measure, however, be even with his
competitor, he dispatched two scouts to look out for the band of
free trappers who were to meet Fontenelle in this neighborhood,
and to endeavor to bring them to his camp.
As it would be necessary to remain some time in this
neighborhood, that both men and horses might repose, and recruit
their strength; and as it was a region full of danger, Captain
Bonneville proceeded to fortify his camp with breastworks of logs
and pickets.
These precautions were, at that time, peculiarly necessary, from
the bands of Blackfeet Indians which were roving about the
neighborhood. These savages are the most dangerous banditti of
the mountains, and the inveterate foe of the trappers. They are
Ishmaelites of the first order, always with weapon in hand, ready
for action. The young braves of the tribe, who are destitute of
property, go to war for booty; to gain horses, and acquire the
means of setting up a lodge, supporting a family, and entitling
themselves to a seat in the public councils. The veteran warriors
fight merely for the love of the thing, and the consequence which
success gives them among their people.
They are capital horsemen, and are generally well mounted on
short, stout horses, similar to the prairie ponies to be met with
at St. Louis.
