Nay, So Alien To Himself Do They Appear
That, Having Breathed For A Few Months Or A Few Weeks The
Air of this
region, he begins to look upon them as a troublesome and dangerous
species of wild beast, and,
If expedient, he could shoot them with as
little compunction as they themselves would experience after
performing the same office upon him. Yet, in the countenance of the
Panther, I gladly read that there were at least some points of
sympathy between him and me. We were excellent friends, and as we
rode forward together through rocky passages, deep dells, and little
barren plains, he occupied himself very zealously in teaching me the
Dakota language. After a while, we came to a little grassy recess,
where some gooseberry bushes were growing at the foot of a rock; and
these offered such temptation to my companion, that he gave over his
instruction, and stopped so long to gather the fruit that before we
were in motion again the van of the village came in view. An old
woman appeared, leading down her pack horse among the rocks above.
Savage after savage followed, and the little dell was soon crowded
with the throng.
That morning's march was one not easily to be forgotten. It led us
through a sublime waste, a wilderness of mountains and pine forests,
over which the spirit of loneliness and silence seemed brooding.
Above and below little could be seen but the same dark green foliage.
It overspread the valleys, and the mountains were clothed with it
from the black rocks that crowned their summits to the impetuous
streams that circled round their base. Scenery like this, it might
seem, could have no very cheering effect on the mind of a sick man
(for to-day my disease had again assailed me) in the midst of a horde
of savages; but if the reader has ever wandered, with a true hunter's
spirit, among the forests of Maine, or the more picturesque solitudes
of the Adirondack Mountains, he will understand how the somber woods
and mountains around me might have awakened any other feelings than
those of gloom. In truth they recalled gladdening recollections of
similar scenes in a distant and far different land. After we had
been advancing for several hours through passages always narrow,
often obstructed and difficult, I saw at a little distance on our
right a narrow opening between two high wooded precipices. All
within seemed darkness and mystery. In the mood in which I found
myself something strongly impelled me to enter. Passing over the
intervening space I guided my horse through the rocky portal, and as
I did so instinctively drew the covering from my rifle, half
expecting that some unknown evil lay in ambush within those dreary
recesses. The place was shut in among tall cliffs, and so deeply
shadowed by a host of old pine trees that, though the sun shone
bright on the side of the mountain, nothing but a dim twilight could
penetrate within. As far as I could see it had no tenants except a
few hawks and owls, who, dismayed at my intrusion, flapped hoarsely
away among the shaggy branches. I moved forward, determined to
explore the mystery to the bottom, and soon became involved among the
pines. The genius of the place exercised a strange influence upon my
mind. Its faculties were stimulated into extraordinary activity, and
as I passed along many half-forgotten incidents, and the images of
persons and things far distant, rose rapidly before me with
surprising distinctness. In that perilous wilderness, eight hundred
miles removed beyond the faintest vestige of civilization, the scenes
of another hemisphere, the seat of ancient refinement, passed before
me more like a succession of vivid paintings than any mere dreams of
the fancy. I saw the church of St. Peter's illumined on the evening
of Easter Day, the whole majestic pile, from the cross to the
foundation stone, penciled in fire and shedding a radiance, like the
serene light of the moon, on the sea of upturned faces below. I saw
the peak of Mount Etna towering above its inky mantle of clouds and
lightly curling its wreaths of milk-white smoke against the soft sky
flushed with the Sicilian sunset. I saw also the gloomy vaulted
passages and the narrow cells of the Passionist convent where I once
had sojourned for a few days with the fanatical monks, its pale,
stern inmates in their robes of black, and the grated window from
whence I could look out, a forbidden indulgence, upon the melancholy
Coliseum and the crumbling ruins of the Etennal City. The mighty
glaciers of the Splugen too rose before me, gleaming in the sun like
polished silver, and those terrible solitudes, the birthplace of the
Rhine, where bursting from the bowels of its native mountains, it
lashes and foams down the rocky abyss into the little valley of
Andeer. These recollections, and many more, crowded upon me, until
remembering that it was hardly wise to remain long in such a place, I
mounted again and retraced my steps. Issuing from between the rocks
I saw a few rods before me the men, women, and children, dogs and
horses, still filing slowly across the little glen. A bare round
hill rose directly above them. I rode to the top, and from this
point I could look down on the savage procession as it passed just
beneath my feet, and far on the left I could see its thin and broken
line, visible only at intervals, stretching away for miles among the
mountains. On the farthest ridge horsemen were still descending like
mere specks in the distance.
I remained on the hill until all had passed, and then, descending,
followed after them. A little farther on I found a very small
meadow, set deeply among steep mountains; and here the whole village
had encamped. The little spot was crowded with the confused and
disorderly host. Some of the lodges were already completely
prepared, or the squaws perhaps were busy in drawing the heavy
coverings of skin over the bare poles.
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