Part 3 (1/2)
Vancouver failed in the same way to discover the Fraser, the great river of British Columbia, although he actually entered the delta of the river, and sailed about among the sand-banks, naming one of them Sturgeon Bank; while the Spanish explorers, who were there about the same time, recognized the fact of its existence far out at sea, in the irregular currents, the sand-banks, the drift of trees and logs, and also in the depression in the Cascade Mountains, which marks its channel.
In 1805 Lewis and Clarke, who reached the mouth of the Columbia that year, found that the Indians called the river ”_Shocatilc.u.m_” (friendly water).
Tourists have not yet discovered what a wonderful country this is for sight-seeing, fortunately for us. On our pa.s.sage up the Columbia, after leaving Portland, we sat for two or three days, almost alone, on the deck of the steamer, with nothing to break the silence but the deep breathing of the boat, which seemed like its own appreciation of it; and sailed past the great promontories, some of them a thousand feet high, and watched the slender silver streams that fall from the rocks, and felt that we were in a new world,--new to us, but older and grander than any thing we had ever seen.
We were shown a high, isolated rock, rising far above the water, on which was a scaffolding, where, for many generations, the Indians had deposited their dead. They were wrapped in skins, tied with cords of gra.s.s and bark, and laid on mats. Their most precious possessions were placed beside them, first made unserviceable for the living, to secure their remaining undisturbed. The bodies were always laid with the head toward the west, because the _memaloose illahie_ (land of the dead) lay that way.
In the instincts of children and of uncivilized people, there seems something to trust. This idea of Heaven's lying toward the west appears to have been held by the New-England Indians also, and is expressed in Whittier's lines,--
”O mighty Sowanna!
Thy gateways unfold, From thy wigwam of sunset Lift curtains of gold!
Take home the poor spirit whose journey is o'er-- _Mat wonck kunna-monee!_ We see thee no more!”
The Chinese have also the ”peaceful land in the west,” lying far beyond the visible universe.
Farther up the river, we pa.s.sed some abandoned diggings, where little colonies of patient, toilsome Chinamen had established themselves, and were was.h.i.+ng and sifting the earth discarded by previous miners; making, we were told, on the average, two or three cents to the pan. The Chinaman regularly pays, as a foreigner (and is almost the only foreigner who does so), his mining-license tax to the State. He never seeks to interfere with rich claims, and patiently submits to being driven away from any neglected spot he may have chosen if a white man takes a fancy to it.
We stopped one night at Umatilla City, a cheerless little settlement at the junction of the Umatilla River with the Columbia, in the midst of a bleak, dreary waste of sand and sage-brush, without a sign of a tree in any direction, a perfect whirlwind blowing all the time. What could induce people to live there, I could not imagine.
We stopped a day or two at Walla Walla, where one of the early forts was established; the post having been transferred from Wallula, where it was called Fort ”Nez Perces,” from the Indians in that vicinity, who wore in their noses a small white sh.e.l.l, like the fluke of an anchor.
The journey from Walla Walla to Fort Colville occupied eleven days and nights, during which time we did not take a meal in a house, nor sleep in a bed. It was cold, rainy, and windy, a good deal of the time, but we enjoyed it notwithstanding. To wake up in the clear air, with the bright sky above us, when it was pleasant; and to reach at night the little oases of willows and birches and running streams where we camped,--was enough to repay us for a good deal of discomfort. At one of the camping-grounds,--Cow Creek,--a beautiful bird sang all night; it sounded like bubbling water.
For several days we saw only great sleepy-looking hills, stretching in endless succession, as far as the horizon extended, from morning till night, as if a billowy ocean had been suddenly transfixed in the midst of its motion. They have only thin vegetation on them,--not enough to disturb or conceal the beautiful forms, the curves which the waves leave on the hills they deposit. Their colors are very subdued,--pale salmon from the dead gra.s.s, or light green like a thin veil, with the red earth showing dimly through. There is no change in looking at them, but from light to shadow, as the clouds move over them.
We travelled, for a long distance, over sage-brush and alkali plains. In this part of the country, sage-brush is a synonym for any thing that is worthless. We found the little woody twigs of it available for our camping-fires; but its amazing toughness reminded me of a story told by Mr. Boller, in his book ”Among the Indians.” He was taking a band of mustang half-breeds from California to Montana, when, to his surprise, one of the mares presented him with a foal. Supposing it would be impossible for it to keep up with the party, he took out his revolver to shoot it. Twice he raised it, but the little fellow trotted along so cheerily that his heart failed him, and he returned it to the holster.
The colt swam creeks breast-high for the horses, and travelled on with sublime indifference to every thing but the gratification of its keen little appet.i.te. He resolved to take it through, thinking it would never do to destroy an animal of so much pluck, and named it ”Sage-brush.” It swam every stream, flinched from nothing, and arrived in good order in Montana, a distance of three hundred miles, having travelled every day from the time it was half an hour old. Its name was most appropriate, as an ill.u.s.tration of the character of the plant.
Intermixed with the wastes of sage-brush were patches of bunch-gra.s.s.
The horses sniffed it with delight as luxuriant pasturage. It is curious to see how nature here acts in the interest of civilization. The old settlers told us that many acres formerly covered with sage-brush were now all bunch-gra.s.s. It is a peculiarity of the sage-brush, that fire will not spread in it. The bush which is fired will burn to the ground, but the next will not catch from it. The gra.s.s steals in among the sage-brush; and, when that is burned, it carries the fire from one bush to another. Although the gra.s.s itself is consumed, the roots strike deep; and it springs up anew, overrunning the dead sage-brush.
Then we came to the most barren country I ever saw,--nothing but broken, rusty, worm-eaten looking rocks, where the rattlesnakes live. But here grew the most beautiful flower, peach-blossom color. It just thrust its head out of the earth, and the long pink buds stretched themselves out over the dingy bits of rock; and that was all there was of it. We took some of the roots, which are bulbous, and shall try to furnish them with sufficient hards.h.i.+ps to make them grow.
One night, while in this region, we camped on a hill where the cayotes came up and cried round us, which made it seem quite wild.
Wherever there was any soil, there was another little plant that was very pretty to notice, both for itself, and because of its adaptation to the climate in the dry season. It was coated with a delicate fur; and long after the hot sun was up, and when every thing else was dry, great diamonds of dew glistened in its soft hair. We saw a great many plants of the lupine family, in every variety of shade, from crimson, blue, and purple, to white.
On the last days we had all the time before us dark mountains, with snow on their summits, and troops of trees on their sides, and ravines with sun-lighted mists travelling through them. It was like getting into an inhabited country, to reach the trees again: they were almost like human beings, after what we had seen. The Spokane River divides the great treeless plain on the south from the timbered mountainous country to the north.
During this journey, we came upon various little bands of Indians, of different tribes. We noticed the superiority of the ”stick” Indians (those who live in the woods) over those who live by the sea. The former have herds of horses, and hunt for their living. The Indians who live by fis.h.i.+ng are of tamer natures, poor and degraded, compared to those of the interior.
We saw at Walla Walla some of the Klickatats, from the mountains. They were very bright and animated in their appearance, and wore fringed dresses and ornamented leggings, and moccasins of buffalo-skin. They were mounted upon fancy-colored and spotted horses, which they prize above all others. They presented such a striking contrast to the lazy Clalams on the Sound,--who used to say to us in reply to our inquiries as to their occupations and designs, ”_Cultus nannitsh, cultus mitlight_” (look about and do nothing), as if that were their whole business all day long,--that I was reminded of what some of the early explorers said, that no two nations of Europe differed more widely from each other than the different tribes of Indians.
One day we met an Spokane Indian, of very striking appearance, with a face like Dante's, but with a happier expression. He was most becomingly clothed in white blankets, compactly folded about him, with two or three narrow red stripes across his bonnet of the same material, which had a red peaked border, completely encircling the face, like an Irishwoman's night-cap, or rather day-cap, but much more picturesque. He was scouring the hills and plains between the Snake and Spokane Rivers, mounted on a gay little pony, in search of stolen horses. Upon being questioned as to his abiding-place, he informed us that he did not live anywhere.
We saw some representatives of another tribe of Indians, the Snakes.
They call themselves Shoshones, which means only ”inland Indians.” The white people called them Snakes, probably because of their marvellous power of eluding pursuit, by crawling off in the long gra.s.s, or diving in the water. They seemed more wild and agile than any we had seen. The Snakes were a very numerous tribe when the traders first came among them. When questioned as to their number, by the agents of ”The Great White Chief,” they said, ”It is the same as the stars in the sky.” They were a proud, independent people, living mostly on the plains, hunting the buffalo. They kept no canoes; depending only on temporary rafts of bulrushes or willows, if not convenient to ford or swim across the streams. They were the only Indians of this part of the country who had any knowledge of working in clay,--their necessities obliging them to make rude jugs in which to carry water across the bare plains. The mountain Snakes were outlaws, enemies to all other tribes. They lived in bands, in rocky caverns; and were said to have a wonderful power of imitating all sounds of nature, from the singing of birds to the howling of wolves,--by this means diverting attention from themselves, and escaping detection in their roving, predatory expeditions.