Chapter 37 - Page 2

of the

fires, lighting up forms of men and steeds dashing through the

gloom, altogether make up one of the wildest scenes of confusion

imaginable. In this way, sometimes, all the horses of a camp

amounting to several hundred will be frightened off in a single

night.

The night passed off without any disturbance; but there was no

likelihood that a war party of Blackfeet, once on the track of a

camp where there was a chance for spoils, would fail to hover

round it. The captain, therefore, continued to maintain the most

vigilant precautions; throwing out scouts in the advance, and on

every rising ground.

In the course of the day he arrived at the plain of white clay,

already mentioned, surrounded by the mineral springs, called Beer

Springs, by the trappers. Here the men all halted to have a

regale. In a few moments every spring had its jovial knot of

hard drinkers, with tin cup in hand, indulging in a mock carouse;

quaffing, pledging, toasting, bandying jokes, singing drinking

songs, and uttering peals of laughter, until it seemed as if

their imaginations had given potency to the beverage, and cheated

them into a fit of intoxication. Indeed, in the excitement of the

moment, they were loud and extravagant in their commendations of

"the mountain tap"; elevating it above every beverage produced

from hops or malt. It was a singular and fantastic scene; suited

to a region where everything is strange and peculiar:--These

groups of trappers, and hunters, and Indians, with their wild

costumes, and wilder countenances; their boisterous gayety, and

reckless air; quaffing, and making merry round these sparkling

fountains; while beside them lay their weep ons, ready to be

snatched up for instant service. Painters are fond of

representing banditti at their rude and picturesque carousels;

but here were groups, still more rude and picturesque; and it

needed but a sudden onset of Blackfeet, and a quick transition

from a fantastic revel to a furious melee, to have rendered this

picture of a trapper's life complete.

The beer frolic, however, passed off without any untoward

circumstance; and, unlike most drinking bouts, left neither

headache nor heartache behind. Captain Bonneville now directed

his course up along Bear River; amusing himself, occasionally,

with hunting the buffalo, with which the country was covered.

Sometimes, when he saw a huge bull taking his repose in a

prairie, he would steal along a ravine, until close upon him;

then rouse him from his meditations with a pebble, and take a

shot at