Scenes and Adventures in the Semi-Alpine Region of the Ozark Mountains of Missouri and Arkansas Part 9

I determined to quit the river at this point, and, after a night's rest, made the necessary arrangements.

There is almost a moral certainty that De Soto must have crossed the river above this place. The make of the land, and the custom of the Indians in choosing the best ground for a path to travel from village to village, would determine this. His position, after crossing the Mississippi at the mouth of the St. Francis, and reaching the high grounds of the latter, would lead the natives who were his guides to keep the elevated and dry ranges leading to the buffalo country, west; and he must have crossed the affluents of the Black and Currents rivers at a high point towards the Ozarks. The dry and open woods afforded the best ground for the march of his cavalry; and when he attempted to reach the salt and buffalo country from the region east of White river, the roughness of the country would lead him to the central points of that stream. It would be interesting, as a point of antiquarian interest, to know where the old Indian paths were located. The roads, in all parts of the country, were based on these. They led to the most practicable fords of rivers, they avoided swamps and boggy grounds, and evinced a thorough geographical knowledge of the conformation of the country.

To travel where De Soto had travelled, and where he had performed some of his heroic feats, had something pleasing, at least, in the a.s.sociation. Doubtless, had the first occupants of Upper Louisiana been as mindful of historical reminiscences as they were set on repeating his search for gold and silver mines, they might have been rewarded by finding some of the straggling bones of his broken-down Andalusian cavalry. The fragments of broken arms and trappings were yet, perhaps, concealed by the acc.u.mulated rank vegetable soil of Arkansas and Southern Missouri, whence the plough may at no distant day reveal them.

It was ten o'clock on the morning of the 19th, when, having made every necessary preparation, we left Mr. Bean's. I regretted the necessity of making a selection from my collection of minerals and geological specimens. We set out with great alacrity. For the first five miles, we pa.s.sed over a level, fertile tract, with several plantations; the remaining thirteen miles were comparatively sterile and uneven, without settlements. We had pa.s.sed about seventeen miles of the distance, when my right foot and ankle began to flinch. I was not sensible of any slip or sprain in walking, but rather believe it resulted from too much ardour and anxiety to get forward. I had, about four years previously, dislocated and injured the same ankle in leaping down a precipice in the Green mountains, having mistaken a granitical shelf of rock at its base, which was covered with autumnal leaves, for soft soil. I believe the suddenness and alacrity of this day's travel, after leaving the quietude of the canoe, had awakened a sympathy in the injured nerves. In a short time, the pain was unendurable. With great effort I walked a mile further, and reached a double log house, the mistress of which bathed the ankle with salt and water, and made other applications. Some alleviation, but no permanent relief, was obtained. I then laid down under the hope of being better, but awoke on the morning of the 20th with little or no abatement of the pain, and inflammation. A traveller on horseback, coming along that morning on a fine animal, agreed, for a small compensation, to let me ride to the south fork of Strawberry river, while he went afoot. This helped me over twelve miles of the road, where his path diverged; and I felt so much relieved by it, on dismounting, that I managed, by easy stages, to walk four miles farther, which brought us to the main river. The afternoon was not yet spent; but the pain of my ankle had returned before reaching the river, and I found it in vain to press forward, without adequate repose.

The next morning (21st), my travelling companion, who cared nothing for natural history or antiquities, and was urgent to push on, left me, and returned to St. Louis. Left alone, I felt, for a few moments, a sense of isolation; but I was now in a region where there was no longer any danger to be apprehended for the want of the first necessaries of life.

My lameness required nothing, indeed, but perfect repose. The people were kind, and, when I ascertained that my hostess was a sister of one of the hunters who had guided me in the most remote parts of my wanderings in the Ozarks, there was a manifest point of sympathy.

I found by inquiry that there were appearances of a mineral deposit in this vicinity, which seemed to connect the hilly grounds of Strawberry river with similar indications which have been noticed near the Bull shoals, on White river. Appearances denote the existence of sulphuret of lead in the vicinity. The sulphate of barytes, calcareous spar, and white crystalline ma.s.ses of quartz, characterize the uplands. When my foot and ankle would bear it, I proceeded by easy paces northward, going, the first day after leaving the Strawberry valley, ten miles, which brought me to a place called Dogwood Springs, so named from the _cornus florida_. The next day I went ten miles further, when I came to the banks of Spring river, where I was entertained by Major Haynes. Here I first saw cotton in the fields, being the unpulled bolls of the autumn crop, which had not been thought worth gathering.

Feeling no injury to result from these easy marches, which gave me time to examine the appearances of the surface, I ventured a little farther on the recovery of my ankle, and, the third day, went nineteen miles. In this distance I crossed the stream called Elevenpoints, a tributary to Spring river, and came, at a rather late hour in the evening, into a small valley called Foosh-e-da-maw, a popular corruption of the French _Fourche a Thomas_. It was quite dark when I applied for a night's lodging at a small cabin, being the only one I had encountered for many miles. The man and his wife, who were its only occupants, were manifestly not blessed with much of this world's goods; but they were kind, and, though they had already gone to bed, and had but one room, they permitted me to occupy a part of the floor. Spare bed they had none; but, had they possessed ever so many, I did not require one.

Camping out under the open heavens so long, had created a habit which made it impossible for me to rest in a soft bed. I had declined one the night before, at Spring river, and thrown myself on a single blanket, on the hard puncheons. I wished to keep my nerves up to this tense state, and the hardy habits of the woodman, while I was compelled to foot my way, and take my chances for rough fare, for some time.

With the earliest gleams of light I was up, and walked four miles to breakfast. Twelve more brought me to Hicks's ferry, on a large stream called the Currents. I had camped on the source of this river, in the cliffs of the Ozarks, on my outward trip, and found the region remarkable for its large saltpetre caves. It was here a river of eight feet deep, and three hundred yards wide. At this spot I should have stopped; for, after going beyond it, I found the country was thinly settled, which compelled me to walk some time after nightfall, before I could find a house; and, on presenting myself, the man proved to be surly and gruff, and denied me lodging. It was evident to me, from words that pa.s.sed, that his wife was expecting to be ill; and, as the house was small, there seemed some reason for his apparent unkindness. I had already come twenty-three miles; the night was dark, and threatened rain; and the next house distant. I should have been happy to exclaim, with the poet,

"Turn, gentle hermit of the dale, and guide my lonely way!"

but there was no gentle hermit in sight. It was clearly not a question of poetry, but was likely to be one of sober, down-right prose. I said to him, finally, after a look into the black darkness and desolate woods, that I would only claim my length on the floor, and, to give no uneasiness to his good lady, be off at the slightest intimation. He consented, and I laid down without receiving any notice of the lady's expected illness till morning, when I left my pallet at a very early hour. For three miles beyond, it was a rough region, through which it required daylight to pa.s.s, and where I must have lost my way in the dark, had I gone on, the night previously.

I stopped at a cottage for breakfast. It was occupied by a poor woman.

Everything bore tokens of this fact. She appeared to have little in the way of eatables herself, but was very willing, in the article of breakfast, to share that little with me. I had pa.s.sed the night before supperless, after a long day's walk, and the morning's air had further excited my appet.i.te; still, I should have gone on, had another habitation been near at hand; but what the good woman wanted in means, she made up in readiness and hearty good-will; and, if the meal was not sumptuous, I arose as well satisfied as if I had breakfasted with a lord.

Thus refreshed, I went on ten miles, which brought me to the banks of Little Black river. Two miles beyond this stream, I stopped at the house of a Mr. Reeves, at an early hour in the afternoon, my ankle giving indications of returning lameness. Quiet, and a night's repose, had the effect to relieve these symptoms, and I was enabled cautiously to continue my journey the next day. Daylight was ever my signal for rising, and, by easy stages, I made seventeen miles during the day, walking early and late. The first six miles of this distance were made before I stopped for breakfast, and the next ten miles brought me to the ferry over Big Black river--a clear, rapid stream, which, in its progress to the south, is the recipient of all the before-mentioned streams, from the Strawberry river, north; and is itself, finally, a tributary of White river, maintaining through it a free navigation with the Mississippi. After crossing the ferry, I went about half a mile further, and took up my night's lodgings at a Mr. Bollinger's. I felt no further weakness of my foot and ankle, and was happy in the reflection that my cautious movements had been such as not to overtax the strength of my nerves. Indeed, from this point, (till 1830,) I experienced no further symptoms of lameness.

On the next morning (28th), I walked seven miles, and took breakfast at a Mr. Esty's, where I fell in with the old road, which had originally been laid, when the country came to be settled, on the ancient Indian path. The elevated lands between Black river and the St. Francis, had evidently been the line of march of De Soto, when (in 1541) he set forward from "Quiguate," on the St. Francis, toward the "north-west," in search of Coligoa. Any other course between west and south-west, would have involved his army in the lagoons, and deep and wide channel, of Black river, which forms a barrier for about one hundred and fifty miles toward the south; while this dividing ground, between the Black river and St. Francis, consists chiefly of dry pine lands and open uplands, offering every facility for the movements of his cavalry, which were ever the dread of the Indians.

The first Indian village which De Soto reached, after crossing the Mississippi--probably at the ancient Indian crossing-place at the lower Chickasaw bluffs--and pus.h.i.+ng on through the low grounds, was on reaching the elevations of the St. Francis, immediately west of his point of landing. The place was called Casquin, or Casqui; a name which will be recognized as bearing a resemblance to one of the Illinois tribes, who have long been known under the name of Kaskaskias. From this place on the high lands of the St. Francis, he ascended that river, keeping the same side of its current, through a fine country, abounding in the pecan and mulberry, a distance of seven leagues, to the central position of the Casquins. Here it was, and not on the immediate banks of the Mississippi, that he erected a gigantic cross, formed out of a pine tree, which, after it was hewn, a hundred men could not lift.

From this place, after a rest of several days, he was led, by the wily chief, to march against the village and chief of Capaha, who was his hereditary enemy, and who had, in past encounters, proved himself more than his equal in prowess. De Soto was caught in this trap, which had nearly proved fatal to his gallant army.

Descending the high grounds, evidently, towards the north-east, and crossing alluvial tracts, by a march of about six days he reached the enemy, well posted, strong in numbers, and of great bravery, on the pastoral elevations, which we are disposed to look for at the site of the modern Spanish town of New Madrid. Capaha took shelter on a thickly wooded island in the Mississippi river, where De Soto, a.s.sisted by his allies, attacked him in canoes, and from which his allies, and afterwards he himself, were glad to retreat. The chief was a most brave, energetic young man, and fought against his combined enemies with the spirit inspired by long acknowledged success. This place formed the extreme northern limit of De Soto's expedition on the line of the Mississippi, and must have been north of 35. After this effort, he retraced his steps slowly back to Casqui.

The Kapahas, of whom the Sioux are ethnologically a branch, have occupied the west banks of the Mississippi, extending to the base of the Rocky mountains, as long as we have known that stream. They have been inveterate enemies of the whole Algonquin race, to which the Kaskaskias and Illinois belonged; and it is not improbable that they had, at this early day, not only encountered the Spaniards, but that, after their withdrawal, they fell on the Casquins, and drove them east of the Mississippi, into the country of the Illinois.

While De Soto was in the country of Capaha, he learned that about forty leagues distant, (west, it must needs have been,) there were, in the hill country, quant.i.ties of fossil salt, and also a yellowish metal, which he supposed to be gold. He despatched two trusty and intelligent men, with Indian guides and carriers, to procure samples. After an absence of eleven days, they returned, with six of the Indians laden with crystals of salt, and one of them with metallic copper. A hundred and twenty miles west of the supposed point of starting, would carry the messengers across the valley of White river, and far into the Ozark plains and elevations, between the south fork of that stream, and the north banks of the Arkansas--the same region, in fine, mentioned, in a prior part of these sketches, as yielding those articles, on the authority of the experienced woodsman, Teen Friend. The country through which these messengers pa.s.sed was sterile and thinly inhabited; but they reported it to be filled with herds of buffalo. These reports led him to march down the banks of the St. Francis, till he reached the village called Quiguate. From thence, having heard of a locality called Coligoa, where he thought there might be gold, he marched again north-west in search of it. This march, in which he followed a single Indian guide, must have led him to the foot of the rough, mountainous, granitic, and mineral region, at the sources of the St. Francis. But this search proved also a disappointment. He was informed that, six leagues north of Coligoa, the buffalo existed in vast herds; but that, if he would reach a rich province, he must march south. It is possible that, in this lat.i.tude, he may have, a little, exceeded the utmost point reached by him on the Mississippi; and he hence confined his adventurous marches to Southern Missouri and Arkansas.

Having taken the road again, after my halt at Esty's, I travelled diligently ten miles, at which distance I reached the ferry of Dr.

Bettis, at the St. Francis. The scene was rural and picturesque, the river winding along in a deep and rapid bed, between elevated and fertile banks. From appearances, and old fields, it seemed altogether such a spot as might have answered the glowing Spanish descriptions of Casqui. The ferry was managed by a black man; and we cut an American half-dollar on the top of an oak stump, agreeably to the Kentucky mode, to adjust the ferriage. On landing on the north bank, I pursued my journey six miles farther, to one Smith's. It was now the 28th of January, and the weather so mild, that I this day found the witch-hazel in bloom.

CHAPTER XV.

PROCEED NORTH--INCIDENTS OF THE ROUTE--A SEVERE TEMPEST OF RAIN, WHICH SWELLS THE STREAM--CHANGE IN THE GEOLOGY OF THE COUNTRY--THE ANCIENT COLIGOA OF DE SOTO--A PRIMITIVE AND MINERAL REGION--ST. MICHAEL--MINE A LA MOTTE--WADE THROUGH WOLF CREEK--A DESERTED HOUSE--CROSS GRAND RIVER--RETURN TO POTOSI.

I left my night's quarters before daylight was fairly developed. The sky was, indeed, heavily overcast, and it soon commenced raining. Expecting to find a house at no great distance, I kept on, the rain at the same time a.s.suming a more settled form, and falling with steadiness. It was seven miles before I reached shelter (Swaim's). I was thoroughly wetted, and, the storm continuing without abatement, I remained until the next morning. The atmosphere was then clear, and the sun rose pleasantly; but the roads were a perfect quagmire. An immense body of rain had fallen.

Every little rivulet roared as if it were a torrent that was out of all patience to deliver its quantum of water to the swollen St. Francis. The ground was perfectly saturated with water; but I picked my way four miles to breakfast. It had been my intention to cross the St. Francis, and take the route through Caledonia to Potosi; but after travelling sixteen miles towards the north-west, and reaching the fords, I found them too much swollen to make the attempt.

After crossing the St. Francis, towards the north, there are strong indications of a change in the geological structure of the country. The horizontal limestone and sandstone series still continue for a distance; but they are covered with large blocks of sienite and granite. What is remarkable in these blocks, is their angular character, which denotes that they have not been carried far south of their original beds. These blocks increase in frequency and size as we approach the primitive highlands of the St. Francis. And I at length stood, gazing at these rough, red, crystalline peaks, and high orbicular k.n.o.bs, which reach up from beneath and through the calcareous and sedimentary series, without having lifted up the latter into inclined positions, or in the least disturbing their horizontality--a proof of their priority of position.

I pa.s.sed the night near the fords, at a farmer's; and finding it impossible, the next morning, to pursue this route, or to get a boat or canoe to cross the river, obtained directions for making my way north-eastwardly, towards St. Michael's. I was now in the probable region of De Soto's Coligoa, the utmost north-westwardly point of his explorations. And it ceased to be a matter of surprise that the Indians had given him such wonderful accounts of the mineral wealth of the sources of the St. Francis. The white inhabitants, at this day, have similar notions. They perceive such an unusual geological display before and around them, that they suppose it indicates mineral treasures. There are stories afloat of all kinds of mineral discoveries--not of gold, indeed, which was De Soto's search, but of tin, lead, copper, iron, cobalt, and antimony. The iron mountains of Bellevieu, so called, are part of this development. At a place called the Narrows, the river rushes between alpine peaks of sienite and black hornblende rock, which lies in huge and confused heaps, plainly indicating ancient volcanic action. I had examined this region, with minuteness, the previous summer, in an excursion through the southern limits of the lead-mines, and now revisited some of the points, respecting which, my curiosity was unsatisfied. I wandered among these attractive peaks about ten miles, and slept at a house (Burdett's), to the occupant of which, I had carried a letter of introduction the year before.

The next day (Feb. 1) proved rainy; but I took advantage of intervals in the weather to advance on my general course about three miles. The sky, the next morning, was still cloudy, dark, and unsettled. When it indicated signs of clearing up, I was advised of another ford of the St. Francis, at a higher point; and I proceeded a part of the way to reach it; but accounts discouraged me, and I bent my steps to the village of St. Michael. Two miles north of this, I came to the noted lead-mine of La Motte, the most southerly in position of the Missouri circle of mines. At this place, they raised large tubular ma.s.ses of lead-ore, from its position in the red, marly clay. The slags drawn from the ash-furnace denoted, by the intensity of their blue color, its connexion with the oxide of cobalt. Ten miles beyond these mines, after pa.s.sing an uninhabited tract, I entered Cook's settlement, where I slept.

Next day, I was again in motion at early dawn. The effects of the late copious rains were still an impediment to travelling; but I experienced no further symptoms of lameness, and felt the desire to press on, increasing in proportion as I drew near my starting-point in the prior autumn. I felt that I had succeeded in the accomplishment of a trip of some peril, through a noted mountainous range, into which all but one of my original party had failed to accompany me, and my guides had deserted me at a moment of peculiar peril. It was also true that my only companion had rather abruptly left me, when taken lame on the road. I could not, as I approached the spot of organizing my party for this exploration, help feeling a degree of buoyancy of spirits, while returning to it, in the hope of again meeting familiar acquaintances face to face.

Under this impulse, and with the high health produced by daily exercise, I travelled ten miles on the following day. On reaching Wolf creek, it was found to be filled to overflowing. It was already dark; and a ruinous, tenantless house, with the doors and windows standing open, was the only object that presented itself on the opposite bank. Horse or canoe, there was none; but there could be no hesitation in attempting to cross it. The waters, in the deepest parts of the channel, reached to my breast. I came out, of course, dripping; it was still two miles to the next house, and, casting furtive glances at the ma.s.ses of darkness in the deserted dwelling, and with a path muddy and indistinct, I hurried on to the point of my destination.

It was the 4th of February when I crossed Big river, the Grande river of the days of Crozat and the financier Law. I was carried across it in the ferry-boat, and took my way over the sylvan, long, sweeping mineral hills, which stretch toward Potosi, entering that busy town at a seasonable hour, having travelled fifteen miles. The first acquaintance I encountered, on reaching within a few miles of it, was a Major Hawkins--a surveyor, an old resident, and a good woodsman, who, cordially extending his hand to welcome my return, exclaimed, "I thought the Indians or the wolves had long ago eaten you up." This was the first intimation I received that there had been any temerity in the plan for this expedition.

Potosi was now selected as the place for drawing up an account of the mines, and the mineralogical productions and resources, of the country--a memoir on which, was published at New York in the autumn of this year (1819), and which is inserted, in a revised form, in the Appendix to these sketches.

PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY OF THE WEST.

TWO LETTERS ADDRESSED TO THE HON. J. B. THOMAS, U. S. SENATE, WAs.h.i.+NGTON.

I.

POTOSI, Missouri, Feb. 9th, 1819.

SIR: I beg leave to address you on the subject of my recent expedition into the Ozark region. When I was at your house at Cahokia, I mentioned to you my design of making a tour into the interior of the Territory. I have just returned from the excursion. Two persons were a.s.sociated with me in the enterprise; but one of them, our mutual friend, Mr. Brigham, was compelled by illness to relinquish the journey, and return, after he had reached Potosi.

We proceeded in a south-west direction, which carried us across the sources of the Maramec and Gasconade. We then entered on the elevated highlands, which alternately pour their waters into the Missouri and Mississippi rivers, reaching, in their development, to the Was.h.i.+ta river. Through this rough alpine range, the Arkansas, rising in the Rocky mountains, penetrates, and is the only river that completely separates the chain. Our explorations were confined to the region lying on its northern banks. Winter overtook us on the sources of the White river, giving us a few days of severe weather, but offering, generally, no impediment to travelling. There is much that is most striking and picturesque in the scenery of this region, and not less in its productions and physical character. Nowhere, probably, on the globe, is there such a remarkable succession of limestone caverns, and large, transparent springs. At several places, large brooks flow abruptly out of crevices in the rock; and at one place, a flowing stream, Spring river, thus originates. We found the ores of lead, iron, and manganese, in large bodies. The high uplands are often rent by precipitous valleys and large chasms, caused by the force of these streams. These valleys are well wooded, and contain the richest soil. And this broad region must at no distant day attract settlement, and will afford facilities for agriculture and mining, while its abundant water-power gives it great advantages for milling and manufactures.

The country is a continuation of the limestone and sandstone formations of the west banks of the Mississippi. The number and extent of the caverns in this formation, is, indeed, remarkable. They yield saltpetre earth, wherever they have been explored. Nitrate of potash has been manufactured in some of these caves, and transported across the wilderness for eighty miles; and a valuable traffic in this article may be established. In the district between the head-waters of White river and the Arkansas, salt is found, in a crystallized state, in the prairies. The region is still occupied by herds of the buffalo, elk, deer, and by the bear, and smaller animals of the lat.i.tude, which renders it an attractive country to hunters and trappers.

The Osage Indians, who inhabit it, are the cause of fear and alarm to this cla.s.s; but it did not appear to us, from the spa.r.s.e numbers of the Indians, and the periodical flying visits they are in the habit of making the eastern and northern parts of it, that there is ground of permanent apprehension from this source. The policy of locating the Cherokees on the north banks of the Arkansas, may well be questioned; and I have heard this arrangement much spoken against.

Indeed, the agricultural value of the country has been much underrated.

Independent of the mineral discoveries mentioned, the arable lands of the Ozark summit-level const.i.tute one of the richest and most beautiful districts in the Territory. The high gra.s.s and flowers which cover the prairie-lands, impart the most sylvan aspect to the scene. Springs of the purest water abound, and, by avoiding the chasms, the country is susceptible of being traversed by roads. It only requires to be better known, to attract the notice of emigrants, and will some day bear a great population. I do not doubt that the high road from St. Louis to Fort Smith will probably cross this tract of country. Such a route must greatly shorten the distance.

I cannot refer you to a correct map of the country, and therefore enclose you a sketch, explanatory of my route. From a conversation with Mr. Brigham, I cannot mistake your friendly influence in these explorations. I am desirous to extend them to other parts of the frontiers. I understand that the Secretary of War entertains enlarged and enlightened views on the subject. I should be pleased to be employed in this branch of the public service.

I am, with respect, your ob't serv't, HENRY R. SCHOOLCRAFT.

II.