CHAPTER XXVI.
The Black Mountains.- Haunts of Predatory Indians.- Their Wild and Broken
Appearance.- Superstitions Concerning Them - Thunder Spirits.- Singular Noises in the
Mountains- Secret Mines.-Hidden Treasures.- Mountains in Labor. - Scientific
Explanation.-Impassable Defiles.- Black-Tailed Deer.-The Bighorn or Ahsahta.-
Prospect From a Lofty Height.- Plain With Herds of Buffalo.- Distant Peaks of the Rocky
Mountains.- Alarms in the Camp.- Tracks of Grizzly Bears.- Dangerous Nature of This
Animal.- Adventures of William Cannon and John Day With Grizzly Bears.
MR. Hunt and his party were now on the skirts of the Black Hills, or Black Mountains,
as they are sometimes called; an extensive chain, lying about a hundred miles east of
the Rocky Mountains, and stretching in a northeast direction from the south fork of the
Nebraska, or Platte River, to the great north bend of the Missouri. The Sierra or ridge of
the Black Hills, in fact, forms the dividing line between the waters of the Missouri and
those of the Arkansas and the Mississippi, and gives rise to the Cheyenne, the Little
Missouri, and several tributary streams of the Yellowstone.
The wild recesses of these hills, like those of the Rocky Mountains, are retreats and
lurking-places for broken and predatory tribes, and it was among them that the
remnants of the Cheyenne tribe took refuge, as has been stated, from their conquering
enemies, the Sioux.
The Black Hills are chiefly composed of sandstone, and in many places are broken into
savage cliffs and precipices, and present the most singular and fantastic forms;
sometimes resembling towns and castellated fortresses. The ignorant inhabitants of
plains are prone to clothe the mountains that bound their horizon with fanciful and
superstitious attributes. Thus the wandering tribes of the prairies, who often behold
clouds gathering round the summits of these hills, and lightning flashing, and thunder
pealing from them, when all the neighboring plains are serene and sunny, consider
them the abode of the genii or thunder-spirits who fabricate storms and tempests. On
entering their defiles, therefore, they often hang offerings on the trees, or place them
on the rocks, to propitiate the invisible "lords of the mountains," and procure good
weather and successful hunting; and they attach unusual significance to the echoes
which haunt the precipices. This superstition may also have arisen, in part, from a
natural phenomenon of a singular nature. In the most calm and serene weather, and at
all times of the day or night, successive reports are now and then heard among these
mountains, resembling the discharge of several pieces of artillery. Similar reports were
heard by Messrs. Lewis and Clarke in the Rocky Mountains, which they say were
attributed by the Indians to the bursting of the rich mines of silver contained in the
bosom of the mountains.
In fact, these singular explosions have received fanciful explanations from learned
men, and have not been satisfactorily accounted for even by philosophers. They are
said to occur frequently in Brazil. Vasconcelles, Jesuit father, describes one which he
heard in the Sierra, or mountain region of Piratininga, and which he compares to the
discharges of a park of artillery. The Indians told him that it was an explosion of stones.
The worthy father had soon a satisfactory proof of the truth of their information, for the
very place was found where a rock had burst and exploded from its entrails a stony
mass, like a bomb-shell, and of the size of a bull's heart. This mass was broken either
in its ejection or its fall, and wonderful was the internal organization revealed. It had a
shell harder even than iron; within which were arranged, like the seeds of a
pomegranate, jewels of various colors; some transparent as crystals; others of a fine
red, and others of mixed hues. The same phenomenon is said to occur occasionally in
the adjacent province of Guayra, where stones of the bigness of a man's hand are
exploded, with a loud noise, from the bosom of the earth, and scatter about glittering
and beautiful fragments that look like precious gems, but are of no value.
The Indians of the Orellanna, also, tell of horrible noises heard occasionally in the
Paraguaxo, which they consider the throes and groans of the mountains, endeavoring
to cast forth the precious stones hidden within its entrails. Others have endeavored to
account for these discharges of "mountain artillery" on humbler principles; attributing
them to the loud reports made by the disruption and fall of great masses of rock,
reverberated and prolonged by the echoes; others, to the disengagement of hydrogen,
produced by subterraneous beds of coal in a state of ignition. In whatever way this
singular phenomenon may be accounted for, the existence of it appears to be well
established. It remains one of the lingering mysteries of nature which throw something
of a supernatural charm over her wild mountain solitudes; and we doubt whether the
imaginative reader will not rather join with the poor Indian in attributing it to the
thunderspirits, or the guardian genii of unseen treasures, than to any commonplace
physical cause.
Whatever might be the supernatural influences among these mountains, the travellers
found their physical difficulties hard to cope with. They made repeated attempts to find
a passage through or over the chain, but were as often turned back by impassable
barriers. Sometimes a defile seemed to open a practicable path, but it would terminate
in some wild chaos of rocks and cliffs, which it was impossible to climb. The animals of
these solitary regions were different from those they had been accustomed to. The
black-tailed deer would bound up the ravines on their approach, and the bighorn would
gaze fearlessly down upon them from some impending precipice, or skip playfully from
rock to rock. These animals are only to be met with in mountainous regions. The former
is larger than the common deer, but its flesh is not equally esteemed by hunters. It has
very large ears, and the tip of the tail is black, from which it derives its name.
The bighorn is so named from its horns; which are of a great size, and twisted like
those of a ram. It is called by some the argali, by others the ibex, though differing from
both of these animals. The Mandans call it the ahsahta, a name much better than the
clumsy appellation which it generally bears. It is of the size of a small elk, or large deer,
and of a dun color, excepting the belly and round the tail, where it is white. In its habits
it resembles the goat, frequenting the rudest precipices; cropping the herbage from
their edges; and like the chamois, bounding lightly and securely among dizzy heights,
where the hunter dares not venture. It is difficult, therefore, to get within shot of it. Ben
Jones the hunter, however, in one of the passes of the Black Hills, succeeded in
bringing down a bighorn from the verge of a precipice, the flesh of which was
pronounced by the gormands of the camp to have the flavor of excellent mutton.
Baffled in his attempts to traverse this mountain chain, Mr. Hunt skirted along it to the
southwest, keeping it on the right; and still in hopes of finding an opening. At an early
hour one day, he encamped in a narrow valley on the banks of a beautifully clear but
rushy pool; surrounded by thickets bearing abundance of wild cherries, currants, and
yellow and purple gooseberries.
While the afternoon's meal was in preparation, Mr. Hunt and Mr. M'Kenzie ascended to
the summit of the nearest hill, from whence, aided by the purity and transparency of the
evening atmosphere, they commanded a vast prospect on all sides. Below them
extended a plain, dotted with innumerable herds of buffalo. Some were lying among the
herbage, others roaming in their unbounded pastures, while many were engaged in
fierce contests like those already described, their low bellowings reaching the ear like
the hoarse murmurs of the surf on a distant shore.
Far off in the west they descried a range of lofty mountains printing the clear horizon,
some of them evidently capped with snow. These they supposed to be the Bighorn
Mountains, so called from the animal of that name, with which they abound. They are a
spur of the great Rocky chain. The hill from whence Mr. Hunt had this prospect was,
according to his computation, about two hundred and fifty miles from the Arickara
village.
On returning to the camp, Mr. Hunt found some uneasiness prevailing among the
Canadian voyageurs. In straying among the thickets they had beheld tracks of grizzly
bears in every direction, doubtless attracted thither by the fruit. To their dismay, they
now found that they had encamped in one of the favorite resorts of this dreaded animal.
The idea marred all the comfort of the encampment. As night closed, the surrounding
thickets were peopled with terrors; insomuch that, according to Mr. Hunt, they could not
help starting at every little breeze that stirred the bushes.
The grizzly bear is the only really formidable quadruped of our continent. He is the
favorite theme of the hunters of the far West, who describe him as equal in size to a
common cow and of prodigious strength. He makes battle if assailed, and often, if
pressed by hunger, is the assailant. If wounded, he becomes furious and will pursue
the hunter. His speed exceeds that of a man but is inferior to that of a horse. In
attacking he rears himself on his hind legs, and springs the length of his body. Woe to
horse or rider that comes within the sweep of his terrific claws, which are sometimes
nine inches in length, and tear everything before them.
At the time we are treating of, the grizzly bear was still frequent on the Missouri and in
the lower country, but, like some of the broken tribes of the prairie, he has gradually
fallen back before his enemies, and is now chiefly to be found in the upland regions, in
rugged fastnesses like those of the Black Hills and the Rocky Mountains. Here he lurks
in caverns, or holes which he has digged in the sides of hills, or under the roots and
trunks of fallen trees. Like the common bear, he is fond of fruits, and mast, and roots,
the latter of which he will dig up with his foreclaws. He is carnivorous also, and will
even attack and conquer the lordly buffalo, dragging his huge carcass to the
neighborhood of his den, that he may prey upon it at his leisure.
The hunters, both white and red men, consider this the most heroic game. They prefer
to hunt him on horseback, and will venture so near as sometimes to singe his hair with
the flash of the rifle. The hunter of the grizzly bear, however, must be an experienced
hand, and know where to aim at a vital part; for of all quadrupeds, he is the most
difficult to be killed. He will receive repeated wounds without flinching, and rarely is a
shot mortal unless through the head or heart.
That the dangers apprehended from the grizzly bear, at this night encampment, were
not imaginary, was proved on the following morning. Among the hired men of the party
was one William Cannon, who had been a soldier at one of the frontier posts, and
entered into the employ of Mr. Hunt at Mackinaw. He was an inexperienced hunter and
a poor shot, for which he was much bantered by his more adroit comrades. Piqued at
their raillery, he had been practicing ever since he had joined the expedition, but
without success. In the course of the present afternoon, he went forth by himself to take
a lesson in venerie and, to his great delight, had the good fortune to kill a buffalo. As he
was a considerable distance from the camp, he cut out the tongue and some of the
choice bits, made them into a parcel, and slinging them on his shoulders by a strap
passed round his forehead, as the voyageurs carry packages of goods, set out all
glorious for the camp, anticipating a triumph over his brother hunters. In passing
through a narrow ravine, he heard a noise behind him, and looking round beheld, to his
dismay, a grizzly bear in full pursuit, apparently attracted by the scent of the meat.
Cannon had heard so much of the invulnerability of this tremendous animal, that he
never attempted to fire, but, slipping the strap from his forehead, let go the buffalo meat
and ran for his life. The bear did not stop to regale himself with the game, but kept on
after the hunter. He had nearly overtaken him when Cannon reached a tree, and,
throwing down his rifle scrambled up it. The next instant Bruin was at the foot of the
tree; but, as this species of bear does not climb, he contented himself with turning the
chase into a blockade. Night came on. In the darkness Cannon could not perceive
whether or not the enemy maintained his station; but his fears pictured him rigorously
mounting guard. He passed the night, therefore, in the tree, a prey to dismal fancies. In
the morning the bear was gone. Cannon warily descended the tree, gathered up his
gun, and made the best of his way back to the camp, without venturing to look after his
buffalo meat.
While on this theme we will add another anecdote of an adventure with a grizzly bear,
told of John Day, the Kentucky hunter, but which happened at a different period of the
expedition. Day was hunting in company with one of the clerks of the company, a lively
youngster, who was a great favorite with the veteran, but whose vivacity he had
continually to keep in check. They were in search of deer, when suddenly a huge
grizzly bear emerged from a thicket about thirty yards distant, rearing himself upon his
hind legs with a terrific growl, and displaying a hideous array of teeth and claws. The
rifle of the young man was leveled in an instant, but John Day's iron hand was as
quickly upon his arm. "Be quiet, boy! be quiet!" exclaimed the hunter between his
clenched teeth, and without turning his eyes from the bear. They remained motionless.
The monster regarded them for a time, then, lowering himself on his fore paws, slowly
withdrew. He had not gone many paces, before he again returned, reared himself on
his hind legs, and repeated his menace. Day's hand was still on the arm of his young
companion; he again pressed it hard, and kept repeating between his teeth, "Quiet,
boy! - keep quiet! - keep quiet!" -though the latter had not made a move since his first
prohibition. The bear again lowered himself on all fours, retreated some twenty yards
further, and again turned, reared, showed his teeth, and growled. This third menace
was too much for the game spirit of John Day. "By Jove!" exclaimed he, "I can stand
this no longer," and in an instant a ball from his rifle whizzed into his foe. The wound
was not mortal; but, luckily, it dismayed instead of enraged the animal, and he retreated
into the thicket.
Day's companion reproached him for not practicing the caution which he enjoined upon
others. "Why, boy," replied the veteran, "caution is caution, but one must not put up
with too much, even from a bear. Would you have me suffer myself to be bullied all day
by a varmint?"