He
immediately set about a thorough purification. Making a rude
sweating-house on the banks of the river, he would shut himself
up until in a reeking perspiration, and then suddenly emerging,
would plunge into the river. A number of these sweatings and
plungings having, as he supposed, rendered his person perfectly
"inodorous," he resumed his trapping with renovated hope.
About the beginning of April they encamped upon Godin's River,
where they found the swamp full of "musk-rat houses." Here,
therefore, Captain Bonneville determined to remain a few days and
make his first regular attempt at trapping. That his maiden
campaign might open with spirit, he promised the Indians and free
trappers an extra price for every musk-rat they should take. All
now set to work for the next day's sport. The utmost animation
and gayety prevailed throughout the camp. Everything looked
auspicious for their spring campaign. The abundance of musk-rats
in the swamp was but an earnest of the nobler game they were to
find when they should reach the Malade River, and have a capital
beaver country all to themselves, where they might trap at their
leisure without molestation.
In the midst of their gayety a hunter came galloping into the
camp, shouting, or rather yelling, "A trail! a trail! - lodge
poles! lodge poles!"
These were words full of meaning to a trapper's ear. They
intimated that there was some band in the neighborhood, and
probably a hunting party, as they had lodge poles for an
encampment. The hunter came up and told his story. He had
discovered a fresh trail, in which the traces made by the
dragging of lodge poles were distinctly visible. The buffalo,
too, had just been driven out of the neighborhood, which showed
that the hunters had already been on the range.
The gayety of the camp was at an end; all preparations for
musk-rat trapping were suspended, and all hands sallied forth to
examine the trail. Their worst fears were soon confirmed.
Infallible signs showed the unknown party in the advance to be
white men; doubtless, some rival band of trappers! Here was
competition when least expected; and that too by a party already
in the advance, who were driving the game before them. Captain
Bonneville had now a taste of the sudden transitions to which a
trapper's life is subject. The buoyant confidence in an
uninterrupted hunt was at an end; every countenance lowered with
gloom and disappointment.
Captain Bonneville immediately dispatched two spies to over-take
the rival party, and endeavor to learn their plans; in the
meantime, he turned his back upon the swamp and its musk-rat
houses and followed on at "long camps, which in trapper's
language is equivalent to long stages.
