CHAPTER XIII.
At last we passed the Rio Grande, and a few days more brought us toSanta Fe. Much hath been written about this rich and romantic city,where formerly, if we were to believe travellers, dollars and doubloonswere to be had merely for picking them up; but I suspect the writers hadnever seen the place, for it is a miserable, dirty little hole,containing about three thousand souls, almost all of them half-bred,naked, and starved. Such is Santa Fe. You will there witness spectaclesof wretchedness and vice hardly to be found elsewhere--harsh despotism;immorality carried to its highest degree, with drunkenness and filth.
The value of the Santa Fe trade has been very much exaggerated. Thistown was formerly the readiest point to which goods could be broughtoverland from the States to Mexico; but since the colonization of Texasit is otherwise. The profits also obtained in this trade are far frombeing what they used to be. The journey from St. Louis (Missouri) isvery tedious, the distance being about twelve hundred miles, nor is thejourney ended when you reach Santa Fe, as they have to continue toChihuahua. Goods come into the country at a slight duty, compared tothat payable on the coast, five hundred dollars only (whatever may bethe contents), being charged upon each waggon; and it is this privilegewhich supports the trade. But the real market commences at Chihuahua;north of which nothing is met with by the traveller, except the mostabject moral and physical misery.
Of course, our time passed most tediously; the half-breeds were toostupid to converse with, and the Yankee traders constantly tipsy. Had itnot been that Gabriel was well acquainted with the neighbourhood, weshould positively have died of _ennui_. As it was, however, we made someexcursions among the _rancheros_, or cattle-breeders, and visitedseveral Indian tribes, with whom we hunted, waiting impatiently for awestward-bound caravan.
One day, I had a rather serious adventure. Roche and Gabriel werebear-hunting, while I, feeling tired, had remained in a rancho, where,for a few days, we had had some amusement; in the afternoon, I felt aninclination to eat some fish, and being told that at three or four milesbelow, there was a creek full of fine basses, I went away with my rifle,hooks, and line. I soon found the spot, and was seeking for some birdsor squirrels, whose flesh I could use as bait. As, rifle in hand, Iwalked, watching the branches of the trees along the stream, I feltsomething scratching my leggings and moccasins; I looked down, andperceived a small panther-cub frisking and frolicking around my feet,inviting me to play with it. It was a beautiful little creature,scarcely bigger than a common cat. I sat down, put my rifle across myknees, and for some minutes caressed it, as I would have done anordinary kitten; it became very familiar, and I was just thinking oftaking it with me, when I heard behind me a loud and well-known roar,and, as the little thing left me, over my head bounded a dark heavybody. It was a full-grown panther, the mother of the cub. I had neverthought of her.
I rose immediately. The beast having missed the leap, had fallen twelvefeet before me. It crouched, sweeping the earth with its long tail, andlooking fiercely at me. Our eyes met; I confess it, my heart was verysmall within me. I had my rifle, to be sure, but the least movement topoise it would have been the signal for a spring from the animal. Atlast, still crouching, it crept back, augmenting the distance to aboutthirty feet. Then it made a circle round me, never for a moment takingits eyes off my face, for the cub was still playing at my feet. I haveno doubt that if the little animal had been betwixt me and the mother,she would have snatched it and run away with it. As it was, I felt very,very queer; take to my heels I could not, and the panther would notleave her cub behind; on the contrary, she continued making a circleround me, I turning with her, and with my rifle pointed towards her.
As we both turned, with eyes straining at each other, inch by inch Islowly raised my rifle, till the butt reached my shoulder; I caught thesight and held my breath. The cub, in jumping, hurt itself, and mewed;the mother answered by an angry growl, and just as she was about tospring, I fired; she stumbled backwards, and died without a struggle. Myball, having entered under the left eye, had passed through the skull,carrying with it a part of the brain.
It was a terrific animal; had I missed it, a single blow from her pawwould have crushed me to atoms. Dead as it was, with its claws extended,as if to seize its prey, and its bleeding tongue hanging out, it struckme with awe. I took off the skin, hung it to a tree, and securing thecub, I hastened home, having lost my appetite for fishing or afish-supper for that evening.
A week after this circumstance, a company of traders arrived from St.Louis. They had been attacked by Indians, and made a doleful appearance.During their trip they had once remained six days without any kind offood, except withered grass. Here it may not be amiss to say a few wordsabout the origin of this inland mercantile expedition, and the dangerswith which the traders are menaced.
In 1807, Captain Pike, returning from his exploring trip in the interiorof the American continent, made it known to the United States merchantsthat they could establish a very profitable commerce with the centralprovinces of the north of Mexico; and in 1812, a small party ofadventurers. Millar, Knight, Chambers, Beard, and others, their wholenumber not exceeding twelve, forced their way from St. Louis to SantaFe, with a small quantity of goods.
It has always been the policy of the Spaniards to prevent strangers frompenetrating into the interior of their colonies. At that period, Mexicobeing in revolution, strangers, and particularly Americans, were lookedupon with jealousy and distrust. These merchants were, consequently,seized upon, their goods confiscated, and themselves shut up in theprisons of Chihuahua, where, during several years, they underwent arigorous treatment.
It was, I believe, in the spring of 1821, that Chambers, with the otherprisoners, returned to the United States, and shortly afterwards atreaty with the States rendered the trade lawful. Their accounts inducedone Captain Glenn, of Cincinnati, to join them in a commercialexpedition, and another caravan, twenty men strong, started again forSanta Fe. They sought a shorter road, to fall in with the Arkansasriver, but their enterprise failed; for, instead of ascending the streamof the Canadian fork, it appears that they only coasted the great riverto its intersection by the Missouri road.
There is not a drop of water in this horrible region, which extends evento the Cimaron river, and in this desert they had to suffer all thepangs of thirst. They were reduced to the necessity of killing theirdogs and bleeding their mules to moisten their parched lips. None ofthem perished; but, quite dispirited, they changed their direction andturned back to the nearest point of the river Arkansas, where they wereat least certain to find abundance of water. By this time their beastsof burden were so tired and broken down that they had become of no use.They were therefore obliged to conceal their goods, and arrived withoutany more trouble at Santa Fe, when, procuring other mules, they returnedto their cachette.
Many readers are probably unaware of the process employed by the tradersto conceal their cargo, their arms, and even their provisions. It isnothing more than a large excavation In the earth, in the shape of ajar, in which the objects are stored; the bottom of the cachette havingbeen first covered with wood and canvas, so as to prevent anything beingspoiled by the damp. The important science of cachaye (Canadianexpression) consists in leaving no trace which might betray it to theIndians; to prevent this, the earth taken from the excavation is putinto blankets and carried to a great distance.
The place generally selected for a cachette is a swell in the prairie,sufficiently elevated to be protected from any kind of inundation, andthe arrangement is so excellent, that it is very seldom that the traderslose anything in their cachette, either by the Indians, the changes ofthe climate, or the natural dampness of the earth.
In the spring of 1820, a company from Franklin, in the west of Missouri,had already proceeded to Santa Fe, with twelve mules loaded with goods.They crossed prairies where no white man had ever penetrated, having noguides but the stars of Heaven, the morning breeze from the mountains,and perhaps a pocket compass. Daily they had to pass throu
gh hostilenations; but spite of many other difficulties, such as ignorance of thepasses and want of water, they arrived at Santa Fe.
The adventurers returned to Missouri during the fall; their profit hadbeen immense, although the capital they had employed had been verysmall. Their favourable reports produced a deep sensation, and in thespring of the next year, Colonel Cooper and some associates, to thenumber of twenty-two, started with fourteen mules well loaded. This timethe trip was a prompt and a fortunate one; and the merchants of St.Louis getting bolder and bolder, formed, in 1822, a caravan of seventymen, who carried with them goods to the amount of fortythousand dollars.
Thus began the Santa Fe trade, which assumed a more regular character.Companies started in the spring to return in the fall, with incrediblebenefits, and the trade increasing, the merchants reduced the number oftheir guards, till, eventually, repeated attacks from the savagesobliged them to unite together, in order to travel with safety.
At first the Indians appeared disposed to let them pass without any kindof interruption; but during the summer of 1826 they began to steal themules and the horses of the travellers; yet they killed nobody till1828. Then a little caravan, returning from Santa Fe, followed thestream of the north fork of the Canadian river. Two of the traders,having preceded the company in search of game, fell asleep on the edgeof a brook. These were espied by a band of Indians, who surprised them,seized their rifles, took their scalps and retired before the caravanhad reached the brook, which had been agreed upon as the place ofrendezvous. When the traders arrived, one of the victims still breathed.They carried him to the Cimaron, where he expired, and was buriedaccording to the prairie fashion.
Scarcely had the ceremony been terminated, when upon a neighbouring hillappeared four Indians, apparently ignorant of what had happened. Theexasperated merchants invited them into their camp, and murdered allexcept one, who, although wounded, succeeded in making his escape.
This cruel retaliation brought down heavy punishment. Indeed from thatperiod the Indians vowed an eternal war--a war to the knife, "in theforests and the prairies, in the middle of rivers and lakes, and evenamong the mountains covered with eternal snows."
Shortly after this event another caravan was fallen in with and attackedby the savages, who carried off with them thirty-five scalps, twohundred and fifty mules, and goods to the amount of thirtythousand dollars.
These terrible dramas were constantly reacted in these vast westernsolitudes, and the fate of the unfortunate traders would be unknown,until some day, perchance, a living skeleton, a famished being, coveredwith blood, dust, and mire, would arrive at one of the military posts onthe borders, and relate an awful and bloody tragedy, from which he alonehad escaped.
In 1831, Mr. Sublette and his company crossed the prairies withtwenty-five waggons. He and his company were old pioneers among theRocky Mountains, whom the thirst of gold had transformed into merchants.They went without guides, and no one among them had ever performed thetrip. All that they knew was that they were going from such to such adegree of longitude. They reached the Arkansas river, but from thence tothe Cimaron there is no road, except the numerous paths of thebuffaloes, which, intersecting the prairie, very often deceive thetravellers.
When the caravan entered this desert the earth was entirely dry, and thepioneers mistaking their road, wandered during several days exposed toall the horrors of a febrile thirst under a burning sun. Often they wereseduced by the deceitful appearance of a buffalo-path, and in thisperilous situation Captain Smith, one of the owners of the caravan,resolved to follow one of these paths, which he considered wouldindubitably lead him to some spring of water or to a marsh.
He was alone, but he had never known fear. He was the most determinedadventurer who had ever passed the Rocky Mountains, and if but half ofwhat is said of him is true, his dangerous travels and his hairbreadthescapes would fill many volumes more interesting and romantic than thebest pages of the American novelist. Poor man! after having during somany years escaped from the arrows and bullets of the Indians, he wasfated to fall under the tomahawk, and his bones to bleach upon thedesert sands.
He was about twelve miles from his comrades, when, turning round a smallhill, he perceived the long-sought object of his wishes. A small streamglided smoothly in the middle of the prairie before him. It was theriver Cimaron. He hurried forward to moisten his parched lips, but justas he was stooping over the water he fell, pierced by ten arrows. A bandof Comanches had espied him, and waited there for him. Yet he struggledbravely. The Indians have since acknowledged that, wounded as he was,before dying, Captain Smith had killed three of their people.
Such was the origin of the Santa Fe trade, and such are the liabilitieswhich are incurred even now, in the great solitudes of the West.