The Old Santa Fe Trail: The Story of a Great HighwayInman, Henry
History
The Old Santa Fe Trail: The Story of a Great Highway
Inman, Henry
Frontier and pioneer life -- West (U.S.); New Mexico -- History; Santa Fe National Historic Trail
He was evidently after the fresh meat, which he scented from
a great distance. In the canoe the next morning there were two of the
bear's claws, which had been cut off by the well-directed blow of the
axe. These were carefully preserved by Williams for many years as a
trophy which he was fond of exhibiting, and the history of which he
always delighted to tell.
As he was descending the river with his peltries, which consisted of
one hundred and twenty-five beaver-skins, besides some of the otter and
other smaller animals, he overtook three Kansas Indians, who were also
in a canoe going down the river, as he learned from them, to some post
to trade with the whites. They manifested a very friendly disposition
towards the old trapper, and expressed a wish to accompany him. He
also learned from them, to his great delight, that he was on the
Big Arkansas, and not more than five hundred miles from the white
settlements. He was well enough versed in the treachery of the Indian
character to know just how much he could repose in their confidence. He
was aware that they would not allow a solitary trapper to pass through
their country with a valuable collection of furs, without, at least,
making an effort to rob him. He knew that their plan would be to get him
into a friendly intercourse, and then, at the first opportunity, strip
him of everything he possessed; consequently he was determined to get
rid of them as soon as possible, and to effect this, he plied his oars
with all diligence. The Indians, like most North American savages, were
lazy, and had no disposition to labour in that way, but took it quite
leisurely, satisfied with being carried down by the current. Williams
soon left them in the rear, and, as he supposed, far behind him. When
night came on, however, as he had worked all day, and slept none the
night before, he resolved to turn aside into a bunch of willows to take
a few hours' rest. But he had not stopped more than forty minutes when
he heard some Indians pull to the shore just above him on the same side
of the river. He immediately loosened his canoe from its moorings, and
glided silently away. He rowed hard for two or three hours, when he
again pulled to the bank and tied up.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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