In half an hour from this we were clear of the mountains.There was a plain before us, totally barren and thickly peopled in many parts with the little prairie dogs, who sat at the mouths of their burrows and yelped at us as we passed.The plain, as we thought, was about six miles wide; but it cost us two hours to cross it.Then another mountain range rose before us, grander and more wild than the last had been.Far out of the dense shrubbery that clothed the steeps for a thousand feet shot up black crags, all leaning one way, and shattered by storms and thunder into grim and threatening shapes.As we entered a narrow passage on the trail of the Indians, they impended frightfully on one side, above our heads.
Our course was through dense woods, in the shade and twinkling sunlight of overhanging boughs.I would I could recall to mind all the startling combinations that presented themselves, as winding from side to side of the passage, to avoid its obstructions, we could see, glancing at intervals through the foliage, the awful forms of the gigantic cliffs, that seemed at times to hem us in on the right and on the left, before us and behind! Another scene in a few moments greeted us; a tract of gray and sunny woods, broken into knolls and hollows, enlivened by birds and interspersed with flowers.Among the rest I recognized the mellow whistle of the robin, an old familiar friend whom I had scarce expected to meet in such a place.Humble-bees too were buzzing heavily about the flowers; and of these a species of larkspur caught my eye, more appropriate, it should seem, to cultivated gardens than to a remote wilderness.Instantly it recalled a multitude of dormant and delightful recollections.
Leaving behind us this spot and its associations, a sight soon presented itself, characteristic of that warlike region.In an open space, fenced in by high rocks, stood two Indian forts, of a square form, rudely built of sticks and logs.They were somewhat ruinous, having probably been constructed the year before.Each might have contained about twenty men.Perhaps in this gloomy spot some party had been beset by their enemies, and those scowling rocks and blasted trees might not long since have looked down on a conflict unchronicled and unknown.Yet if any traces of bloodshed remained they were completely hidden by the bushes and tall rank weeds.
Gradually the mountains drew apart, and the passage expanded into a plain, where again we found traces of an Indian encampment.There were trees and bushes just before us, and we stopped here for an hour's rest and refreshment.When we had finished our meal Raymond struck fire, and lighting his pipe, sat down at the foot of a tree to smoke.For some time I observed him puffing away with a face of unusual solemnity.Then slowly taking the pipe from his lips, he looked up and remarked that we had better not go any farther.
"Why not?" asked I.
He said that the country was becoming very dangerous, that we were entering the range of the Snakes, Arapahoes and Grosventre Blackfeet, and that if any of their wandering parties should meet us, it would cost us our lives; but he added, with a blunt fidelity that nearly reconciled me to his stupidity, that he would go anywhere I wished.
I told him to bring up the animals, and mounting them we proceeded again.I confess that, as we moved forward, the prospect seemed but a dreary and doubtful one.I would have given the world for my ordinary elasticity of body and mind, and for a horse of such strength and spirit as the journey required.
Closer and closer the rocks gathered round us, growing taller and steeper, and pressing more and more upon our path.We entered at length a defile which I never had seen rivaled.The mountain was cracked from top to bottom, and we were creeping along the bottom of the fissure, in dampness and gloom, with the clink of hoofs on the loose shingly rocks, and the hoarse murmuring of a petulant brook which kept us company.Sometimes the water, foaming among the stones, overspread the whole narrow passage; sometimes, withdrawing to one side, it gave us room to pass dry-shod.Looking up, we could see a narrow ribbon of bright blue sky between the dark edges of the opposing cliffs.This did not last long.The passage soon widened, and sunbeams found their way down, flashing upon the black waters.
The defile would spread out to many rods in width; bushes, trees, and flowers would spring by the side of the brook; the cliffs would be feathered with shrubbery, that clung in every crevice, and fringed with trees, that grew along their sunny edges.Then we would be moving again in the darkness.The passage seemed about four miles long, and before we reached the end of it, the unshod hoofs of our animals were lamentably broken, and their legs cut by the sharp stones.Issuing from the mountain we found another plain.All around it stood a circle of lofty precipices, that seemed the impersonation of silence and solitude.Here again the Indians had encamped, as well they might, after passing with their women, children and horses through the gulf behind us.In one day we had made a journey which had cost them three to accomplish.
