Odd People: Being a Popular Description of Singular Races of Man

This eastern desert extends parallel with the Rocky Mountains, – throughout nearly the whole of their length, – from the Rio Grande in Mexico, northward to the Mackenzie River. One tract of it deserves particular mention. It is that known as the llano estacado, or “staked plain,” It lies in North-western Texas, and consists of a barren plateau, of several thousand square miles in extent, the surface of which is raised nearly a thousand feet above the level of the surrounding plains. Geologists have endeavoured to account for this singular formation, but in vain. The table-like elevation of the Llano estacado still remains a puzzle. Its name, however, is easier of explanation. In the days of Spanish supremacy over this part of Prairie-land, caravans frequently journeyed from Santa Fé in New Mexico, to San Antonio in Texas. The most direct route between these two provincial capitals lay across the Llano estacado; but as there were neither mountains nor other landmarks to guide the traveller, he often wandered from the right path, – a mistake that frequently ended in the most terrible suffering from thirst, and very often in the loss of life. To prevent such catastrophes, stakes were set up at such intervals as to be seen from one another, like so many “telegraph posts;” and although these have long since disappeared, the great plain still bears the name, given to it from this circumstance.

Besides the contour of surface, there are other respects in which the desert tracts of North America differ from one another. In their vegetation – if it deserves the name – they are unlike. Some have no vegetation whatever; but exhibit a surface of pure sand, or sand and pebbles; others are covered with a stratum of soda, of snow-white colour, and still others with a layer of common salt, equally white and pure. Many of these salt and soda “prairies” – as the trappers term them – are hundreds of square miles in extent. Again, there are deserts of scoria, of lava, and pumice-stone, – the “cut-rock prairies” of the trappers, – a perfect contrast in colour to the above mentioned. All these are absolutely without vegetation of any sort.

On some of the wastes – those of southern latitudes, – the cactus appears of several species, and also the wild agave, or “pita” plant; but these plants are in reality but emblems of the desert itself. So, also, is the yucca, which thinly stands over many of the great plains, in the south-western part of the desert region, – its stiff, shaggy foliage in no way relieving the sterile landscape, but rather rendering its aspect more horrid and austere.

Again, there are the deserts known as “chapparals,” – extensive jungles of brush and low trees, all of a thorny character; among which the “mezquite” of several species (mimosas and acacias), the “stink-wood” or creosote plant (kaeberlinia), the “grease-bush” (obione canescens), several kinds of prosopis, and now and then, as if to gratify the eye of the tired traveller, the tall flowering spike of the scarlet fouquiera. Further to the north – especially throughout the upper section of the Great Salt Lake territory – are vast tracts, upon which scarce any vegetation appears, except the artemisia plant, and other kindred products of a sterile soil.

Of all the desert tracts upon the North-American continent, perhaps none possesses greater interest for the student of cosmography than that known as the “Great Basin.” It has been so styled from the fact of its possessing a hydrographic system of its own, – lakes and rivers that have no communication with the sea; but whose waters spend themselves within the limits of the desert itself, and are kept in equilibrium by evaporation, – as is the case with many water systems of the continents of the Old World, both in Asia and Africa.

The largest lake of the “Basin” is the “Great Salt Lake,” – of late so celebrated in Mormon story: since near its southern shore the chief city of the “Latter-day Saints” is situated. But there are other large lakes within the limits of the Great Basin, both fresh and saline, – most of them entirely unconnected with the Great Salt Lake, and some of them having a complete system of waters of their own. There are “Utah” and “Humboldt,” “Walker’s” and “Pyramid” lakes, with a long list of others, whose names have been but recently entered upon the map, by the numerous very intelligent explorers employed by the government of the United States.

Large rivers, too, run in all directions through this central desert, some of them falling into the Great Salt Lake, as the “Bear” river, the “Weber,” the “Utah,” from Utah Lake, – upon which the Mormon metropolis stands, – and which stream has been absurdly baptised by these free-living fanatics as the “Jordan?” Other rivers are the “Timpanogos,” emptying into Lake Utah; the “Humboldt,” that runs to the lake of that name; the “Carson” river; besides many of lesser note.

The limits assigned to the Great Basin are tolerably well-defined. Its western rim is the Sierra Nevada, or “snowy range” of California; while the Rocky and Wahsatch mountains are its boundaries on the east. Several cross-ranges, and spurs of ranges, separate it from the system of waters that empty northward into the Columbia River of Oregon; while upon its southern edge there is a more indefinite “divide” between it and the great desert region of the western “Colorado.” Strictly speaking, the desert of the Great Basin might be regarded as only a portion of that vast tract of sterile, and almost treeless soil, which stretches from the Mexican state of Sonora to the upper waters of Oregon; but the deserts of the Colorado on the south, and those of the “forks” of the Columbia on the north, are generally treated as distinct territories; and the Great Basin, with the limits already assigned, is suffered to stand by itself. As a separate country, then, we shall here consider it.

From its name, you might fancy that the Great Basin was a low-lying tract of country. This, however, is far from being the case. On the contrary, nearly all of it is of the nature of an elevated tableland, even its lakes lying several thousand feet above the level of the sea. It is only by its “rim,” of still more elevated mountain ridges, that it can lay claim to be considered as a “basin;” but, indeed, the name – given by the somewhat speculative explorer, Fremont – is not very appropriate, since later investigations show that this rim is in many places neither definite nor regular, – especially on its northern and southern sides, where the “Great Basin” may be said to be badly cracked, and even to have some pieces chipped out of its edge.

Besides the mountain chains that surround it, many others run into and intersect it in all directions. Some are spurs of the main ranges; while others form “sierras” – as the Spaniards term them – distinct in themselves. These sierras are of all shapes and of every altitude, – from the low-lying ridge scarce rising above the plain, to peaks and summits of over ten thousand feet in elevation. Their forms are as varied as their height. Some are round or dome-shaped; others shoot up little turrets or “needles;” and still others mount into the sky in shapeless masses, – as if they had been flung upon the earth, and upon one another, in some struggle of Titans, who have left them lying in chaotic confusion. A very singular mountain form is here observed, – though it is not peculiar to this region, since it is found elsewhere, beyond the limits of the Great Basin, and is also common in many parts of Africa. This is the formation known among the Spaniards as mesas, or “table-mountains,” and by this very name it is distinguished among the colonists of the Cape.

The Llano estacado, already mentioned, is often styled a “mesa,” but its elevation is inconsiderable when compared with the mesa mountains that occur in the regions west of the great Rocky chain, – both in the Basin and on the deserts of the Colorado. Many of these are of great height, – rising several thousand feet above the general level; and, with their square truncated table-like tops, lend a peculiar character to the landscape.

The characteristic vegetation of the Great Basin is very similar to that of the other central regions of the North-American continent. Only near the banks of the rivers and some of the fresh-water lakes, is there any evidence of a fertile soil; and even in these situations the timber is usually scarce and stunted. Of course, there are tracts that are exceptional, – oases, as they are geographically styled. Of this character is the country of the Mormons on the Jordan, their settlements on the Utah and Bear Rivers, in Tuilla and Ogden valleys, and elsewhere at more remote points. There are also isolated tracts on the banks of the smaller streams and the shores of lakes not yet “located” by the colonist; and only frequented by the original dwellers of the desert, the red aborigines. In these oases are usually found cottonwood-trees, of several distinct species, – one or other of which is the characteristic, vegetation on nearly every stream from the Mississippi to the mountains of California.

Willows of many species also appear; and now and then, in stunted forms, the oak, the elm, maples, and sycamores. But all these last are very rarely encountered within the limits of the desert region. On the mountains, and more frequently in the mountain ravines pines of many species – some of which produce edible cones – grow in such numbers as to merit the name of forests, of greater or less extent. Among these, or apart from them, may be distinguished the darker foliage of the cedar (Juniperus) of several varieties, distinct from the juniperus virginiana of the States.

The arid plains are generally without the semblance of vegetation. When any appears upon them, it is of the character of the “chapparal,” already described; its principal growth being “tornilla,” or “screw-wood,” and other varieties of mezquite; all of them species of the extensive order of the leguminosae, and belonging to the several genera of acacias, mimosas, and robinias. In many places cactacae appear of an endless variety of forms; and some, – as the “pitahaya” (cereus giganteus), and the “tree” and “cochineal” cacti (opuntias), – of gigantesque proportions. These, however, are only developed to their full size in the regions further south, – on the deserts of the Colorado and Gila, – where also the “tree yuccas” abound, covering tracts of large extent, and presenting the appearance of forests of palms.

Perhaps the most characteristic vegetation of the Great Basin – that is, if it deserve the name of a vegetation – is the wild sage, or artemisia. With this plant vast plains are covered, as far as the eye can reach; not presenting a hue of green, as the grass prairies do, but a uniform aspect of greyish white, as monotonous as if the earth were without a leaf to cover it. Instead of relieving the eye of the traveller, the artemisia rather adds to the dreariness of a desert landscape, – for its presence promises food neither to man nor horse, nor water for them to drink, but indicates the absence of both. Upon the hill-sides also is it seen, along the sloping declivities of the sierras, marbling the dark volcanic rocks with its hoary frondage.

More than one species of this wild sage occurs throughout the American desert: there are four or five kinds, differing very considerably from each other, and known to the trappers by such names as “wormwood,” “grease-bush,” “stink-plant,” and “rabbit-bush.” Some of the species attain to a considerable height, – their tops often rising above the head of the traveller on horseback, – while another kind scarce reaches the knee of the pedestrian.

In some places the plains are so thickly covered with this vegetation, that it is difficult for either man or horse to make way through them, – the gnarled and crooked branches twisting into each other and forming an impenetrable wattle. At other places, and especially where the larger species grow, the plants stand apart like apple-trees in an orchard, and bear a considerable resemblance to shrubs or small trees.

Both man and horse refuse the artemisia as food; and so, too, the less fastidious mule. Even a donkey will not eat it. There are animals, however, – both birds and beasts, as will be seen hereafter, – that relish the sage-plant; and not only eat of it, but subsist almost exclusively on its stalks, leaves, and berries.

The denizens of the Great Basin desert – I mean its human denizens – are comprehended in two great families of the aboriginal race, – the Utahs and Snakes, or Shoshonees. Of the white inhabitants – the Mormons and trap-settlers – we have nothing to say here. Nor yet much respecting the above-mentioned Indians, the Utahs and Snakes. It will be enough for our purpose to make known that these two tribes are distinct from each other, – that there are many communities or sub-tribes of both, – that each claims ownership of a large tract of the central region, lying between the Rocky Mountains and the Sierra Nevada; and that their limits are not coterminal with those of the Great Basin: since the range of the Snakes extends into Oregon upon the north, while that of the Utahs runs down into the valley of the Rio del Norte upon the south. Furthermore, that both are in possession of the horse, – the Utahs owning large numbers, – that both are of roving and predatory habits, and quite as wicked and warlike as the generality of their red brethren.

They are also as well to do in the world as most Indians; but there are many degrees in their “civilisation,” or rather in the comforts of their life, depending upon the situation in which they may be placed. When dwelling upon a good “salmon-stream,” or among the rocky mountain “parks,” that abound in game, they manage to pass a portion of the year in luxuriant abundance. In other places, however, and at other times, their existence is irksome enough, – often bordering upon actual starvation.

It may be further observed, that the Utahs and Snakes usually occupy the larger and more fertile oases of the desert, – wherever a tract is found of sufficient size to subsist a community. With this observation I shall dismiss both these tribes; for it is not of them that our present sketch is intended to treat.

This is specially designed for a far odder people than either, – for the Yamparicos, or “Root-diggers;” and having described their country, I shall now proceed to give some account of themselves.

It may be necessary here to remark that the name “Diggers,” has of late been very improperly applied, – not only by the settlers of California, but by some of the exploring officers of the United States government. Every tribe or community throughout the desert, found existing in a state of special wretchedness, has been so styled; and a learned ethnologist (!), writing in the “Examiner,” newspaper, gravely explains the name, by deriving it from the gold-diggers of California! This “conceit” of the London editor is a palpable absurdity, – since the Digger Indians were so designated, long before the first gold-digger of California put spade into its soil. The name is of “trapper” origin; bestowed upon these people from the observation of one of their most common practices, – viz, the digging for roots, which form an essential portion of their subsistence. The term “yamparico,” is from a Spanish source, and has a very similar meaning to that of “Root-digger.” It is literally “Yampa-rooter,” or “Yampa-root eater,” the root of the “yampa” (anethum graviolens) being their favourite food. The true “Diggers” are not found in California west of the Sierra Nevada; though certain tribes of ill-used Indians in that quarter are called by the name. The great deserts extending between the Nevada and the Rocky Mountains are their locality; and their limits are more or less cotemporaneous with those of the Shoshonees or Snakes, and the Utahs, – of both of which tribes they are supposed to be a sort of outcast kindred. This hypothesis, however, rests only on a slight foundation: that of some resemblance in habits and language, which are very uncertain criteria where two people dwell within the same boundaries, – as, for instance, the whites and blacks in Virginia. In fact, the language of the Diggers can scarce be called a language at all: being a sort of gibberish like the growling of a dog, eked out by a copious vocabulary of signs: and perhaps, here and there, by an odd word from the Shoshonee or Utah, – not unlikely, introduced by the association of the Diggers with these last-mentioned tribes.

In the western and southern division of the Great Basin, the Digger exists under the name of Paiute, or more properly, Pah-Utah, – so-called from his supposed relationship with the tribe of the Utahs. In some respects the Pah-Utahs differ from the Shoshokee, or Snake-Diggers; though in most of their characteristic habits they are very similar to each other. There might be no anomaly committed by considering them as one people; for in personal appearance and habits of life the Pah-Utah, and the “Shoshokee” – this last is the national appellation of the yampa-eater, – are as like each other as eggs. We shall here speak however, principally of the Shoshokees: leaving it to be understood, that their neighbours the “Paiutes” will equally answer the description.

Although the Shoshokees, as already observed, dwell within the same limits as their supposed kindred the Shoshonees, they rarely or never associate with the latter. On the contrary, they keep well out of their way, – inhabiting only those districts of country where the larger Shoshonee communities could not dwell. The very smallest oasis, or the tiniest stream, affords all the fertility that is required for the support of a Digger family; and rarely are these people found living more than one, or at most, two or three families together. The very necessity of their circumstances precludes the possibility of a more extensive association; for on the deserts where they dwell, neither the earth nor the air, nor yet the water, affords a sufficient supply of food to support even the smallest “tribe.” Not in tribes, then, but in single families, or little groups of two or three, do the Digger Indians dwell, – not in the larger and more fertile valleys, but in those small and secluded; in the midst of the sage-plains, or more frequently in the rocky defiles of the mountains that stand thickly over the “Basin.”

The Shoshokee is no nomade, but the very reverse. A single and isolated mountain is often the abode of his group or family; and beyond this his wanderings extend not. There he is at home, knowing every nook and rat-hole in his own neighbourhood; but as ignorant of the world beyond as the “sand-rats” themselves, – whose pursuit occupies the greater portion of his time.

In respect to his “settled” mode of life, the Shoshokee offers a striking contrast to the Shoshonee. Many of the latter are Indians of noble type, – warriors who have tamed the horse, and who extend their incursions, both hunting and hostile, into the very heart of the Rocky Mountains, – up their fertile valleys, and across their splendid “parks,” often bringing back with them the scalps of the savage and redoubtable Blackfeet.

Far different is the character of the wretched Shoshokee, – the mere semblance of a human being, – who rarely strays out of the ravine in which he was brought forth; and who, at sight of a human face – be it of friend or enemy – flies to his crag or cave like a hunted beast!

The Pah-Utah Diggers, however, are of a more warlike disposition; or rather a more wicked and hostile one, – hostile to whites, or even to such other Indians as may have occasion to travel through the deserts they inhabit. These people are found scattered throughout the whole southern and south-western portion of the Great Basin, – and also in the north-western part of the Colorado desert, – especially about the Sevier River, and on several of the tributaries of the great Colorado itself of the west It was through this part of the country that the caravans from California to New Mexico used to make their annual “trips,” – long before Alta Calafornia became a possession of the United States, – and the route by which they travelled is known as the Spanish trail. The object of these caravans was the import of horses, mules, and other animals, – from the fertile valleys of the San Joaquin and Sacramento rivers, to the more sterile settlements of New Mexico. Several kinds of goods were also carried into these interior countries.

This Spanish trail was far from running in a direct line. The sandy, waterless plain – known more particularly as the Colorado desert – could not be crossed with safety, and the caravan-route was forced far to the north; and entered within the limits of the Great Basin – thus bringing it through the county inhabited by the Pah-Utah Diggers. The consequence was, that these savages looked out annually for its arrival; and, whenever an opportunity offered, stole the animals that accompanied it, or murdered any of the men who might be found straggling from the main body. When bent on such purposes, these Diggers for a time threw aside their solitary habits, – assembling in large bands of several hundred each, and following the caravan travellers, like wolves upon the track of a gang of buffaloes. They never made their attacks upon the main body, or when the white men were in any considerable force. Only small groups who had lagged behind, or gone too rashly in advance, had to fear from these merciless marauders, – who never thought of such a thing as making captives, but murdered indiscriminately all who fell into their hands. When horses or mules were captured, it was never done with the intention of keeping them to ride upon. Scarcely ever do the Pah-Utahs make such a use of the horse. Only for food were these stolen or plundered from their owners; and when a booty of this kind was obtained, the animals were driven to some remote defile among the mountains, and there slaughtered outright. So long as a morsel of horse or mule flesh remained upon the bones, the Diggers kept up a scene of feasting and merriment – precisely similar to the carnivals of the African Bushmen, after a successful foray upon the cattle of the Dutch settlers near the Cape. Indeed there is such a very striking resemblance between the Bushmen of Africa and these Digger Indians of North America; that, were it not for the distinction of race, and some slight differences in personal appearance, they might pass as one people. In nearly every habit and custom, the two people resemble each other; and in many mental characteristics they appear truly identical.

The Pah-Utah Diggers have not yet laid aside their hostile and predatory habits. They are at the present hour engaged in plundering forays, – acting towards the emigrant trains of Californian adventurers just as they did towards the Spanish caravans. But they usually meet with a very different reception from the more daring Saxon travellers, who constitute the “trains” now crossing their country; and not unfrequently a terrible punishment is the reward of their audacity. For all that, many of the emigrants, who have been so imprudent as to travel in small parties, have suffered at their hands, losing not only their property, but their lives; since hundreds of the bravest men have fallen by the arrows of these insignificant savages! Even the exploring parties of the United States government, accompanied by troops, have been attacked by them; and more than one officer has fallen a victim to their Ishmaelitish propensities.

It is not in open warfare that there is any dread of them. The smallest party of whites need not fear to encounter a hundred of them at once; but their attacks are made by stealth, and under cover of the night; and, as soon as they have succeeded in separating the horses or other animals from the travellers’ camp, they drive them off so adroitly that pursuit is impossible. Whenever a grand blow has been struck – that is, a traveller has been murdered – they all disappear as if by magic; and for several days after not one is to be seen, upon whom revenge might be taken. The numerous “smokes,” rising up out of the rocky defiles of the mountains, are then the only evidence that human beings are in the neighbourhood of the travellers’ camp.

The Digger is different from other North-American Indians, – both in physical organisation and intellectual character. So low is he in the scale of both, as to dispute with the African Bushman, the Andaman Islander, and the starving savage of Tierra del Fuego, the claim to that point in the transition, which is supposed to separate the monkey from the man. It has been variously awarded by ethnologists, and I as one have had my doubts, as to which of the three is deserving of the distinction. Upon mature consideration, however, I have come to the conclusion that the Digger is entitled to it.

This miserable creature is of a dark-brown or copper colour, – the hue so generally known as characteristic of the American aborigines. He stands about five feet in height, – often under but rarely over this standard, – and his body is thin and meagre, resembling that of a frog stretched upon a fish-hook. The skin that covers it – especially that of an old Digger – is wrinkled and corrugated like the hide of an Asiatic rhinoceros, – with a surface as dry as parched buck-skin. His feet, turned in at the toes, – as with all the aborigines of America, – have some resemblance to human feet; but in the legs this resemblance ends. The lower limbs are almost destitute of calves, and the knee-pans are of immense size, – resembling a pair of pads or callosities, like those upon goats and antelopes. The face is broad and angular, with high cheek-bones; the eyes small, black, and sunken, and sparkle in their hollow sockets, not with true intelligence, but that sort of vivacity which may often be observed in the lower animals, especially in several species of monkeys. Throughout the whole physical composition of the Digger, there is only one thing that appears luxuriant, – and that is his hair. Like all Indians he is amply endowed in this respect, and long, black tresses – sometimes embrowned by the sun, and matted together with mud or other filth – hang over his naked shoulders. Generally he crops them.

In the summer months, the Digger’s costume is extremely simple, – after the fashion of that worn by our common parents, Adam and Eve. In winter, however, the climate of his desert home is rigorous in the extreme, – the mountains over his head, and the plains under his feet, being often covered with snow. At this season he requires a garment to shelter his body from the piercing blast; and this he obtains by stitching together a few skins of the sage-hare, so as to form a kind of shirt or body-coat. He is not always rich enough to have even a good coat of this simple material; and its scanty skirt too often exposes his wrinkled limbs to the biting frost.

Between the Digger and his wife, or “squaw,” there is not much difference either in costume or character. The latter may be distinguished, by being of less stature, rather than by any feminine graces in her physical or intellectual conformation. She might be recognised, too, by watching the employment of the family; for it is she who does nearly all the work, stitches the rabbit-skin shirt, digs the “yampa” and “kamas” roots, gathers the “mezquite” pods, and gets together the larder of “prairie crickets.” Though lowest of all American Indians in the scale of civilisation, the Digger resembles them all in this, – he regards himself as lord and master, and the woman as his slave.

As already observed, there is no such thing as a tribe of Diggers, – nothing of the nature of a political organisation; and the chief of their miserable little community – for sometimes there is a head man – is only he who is most regarded for his strength. Indeed, the nature of their country would not admit of a large number of them living together. The little valleys or “oases” – that occur at intervals along the banks of some lone desert stream, – would not, any one of them, furnish subsistence to more than a few individuals, – especially to savages ignorant of agriculture, – that is, not knowing how to plant or sow. The Diggers, however, if they know not how to sow, may be said to understand something about how to reap, since root-digging is one of their most essential employments, – that occupation from which they have obtained their distinctive appellation, in the language of the trappers.

Not being agriculturists, you will naturally conclude that they are either a pastoral people, or else a nation of hunters. But in truth they are neither one nor the other. They have no domestic animal, – many of them not even the universal dog; and as to hunting, there is no large game in their country. The buffalo does not range so far west; and if he did, it is not likely they could either kill or capture so formidable a creature; while the prong-horned antelope, which does inhabit their plains, is altogether too swift a creature, to be taken by any wiles a Digger might invent. The “big-horn,” and the black and white-tailed species of deer, are also too shy and too fleet for their puny weapons; and as to the grizzly bear, the very sight of one is enough to give a Digger Indian the “chills.”

If, then, they do not cultivate the ground, nor rear some kind of animals, nor yet live by the chase, how do these people manage to obtain subsistence? The answer to this question appears a dilemma, – since it has been already stated, that their country produces little else than the wild and worthless sage plant.

Were we speaking of an Indian of tropical America, or a native of the lovely islands of the great South Sea, there would be no difficulty whatever in accounting for his subsistence, – even though he neither planted nor sowed, tended cattle, nor yet followed the chase. In these regions of luxuriant vegetation, nature has been bountiful to her children; and, it may be almost literally alleged that the loaf of bread grows spontaneously on the tree. But the very reverse is the case in the country of the Digger Indian. Even the hand of cultivation could scarce wring a crop from the sterile soil; and Nature has provided hardly one article that deserves the name of food.

Perhaps you may fancy that the Digger is a fisherman; and obtains his living from the stream, by the side of which he makes his dwelling. Not even this is permitted to him. It is true that his supposed kindred, the Shoshonees, occasionally follow the occupation of fishermen upon the banks of the Great Snake River, – which at certain seasons of the year swarms with the finest salmon; but the poor Digger has no share in the finny spoil. The streams, that traverse his desert home, empty their waters into the briny bosom of the Great Salt Lake, – a true Dead Sea, where neither salmon, nor any other fish could live for an instant.

How then does the Digger obtain his food? Is he a manufacturer, – and perforce a merchant, – who exchanges with some other tribe his manufactured goods for provisions and “raw material?” Nothing of the sort. Least of all is he a manufacturer. The hare-skin shirt is his highest effort in the line of textile fabrics; and his poor weak bow, and flint-tipped arrows, are the only tools he is capable of making. Sometimes he is even without these weapons; and may be seen with another, – a long stick, with a hook at one end, – the hook itself being the stump of a lopped branch, with its natural inclination to that which forms the stick. The object and purpose of this simple weapon we shall presently describe.

The Digger’s wife may be seen with a weapon equally simple in its construction. This is also a stick – but a much shorter one – pointed at one end, and bearing some resemblance to a gardener’s “dibble.” Sometimes it is tipped with horn, – when this can be procured, – but otherwise the hard point is produced by calcining it in the fire. This tool is essentially an implement of husbandry, – as will presently appear.

Let us now clear up the mystery, and explain how the Digger maintains himself. There is not much mystery after all. Although, as already stated, his country produces nothing that could fairly be termed food, yet there are a few articles within his reach upon which a human being might subsist, – that is, might just keep body and soul together. One of these articles is the bean, or legume of the “mezquite” tree, of which there are many kinds throughout the desert region. They are known to Spanish Americans as algarobia trees; and, in the southern parts of the desert, grow to a considerable size, – often attaining the dimension of twenty to twenty-five feet in height.

They produce a large legume, filled with seeds and a pulp of sweetish-acid taste, – similar to that of the “honey-locust.” These beans are collected in large quantities, by the squaw of the Digger, stowed away in grass-woven baskets, or sometimes only in heaps in a corner of his cave, or hovel, if he chance to have one. If so, it is a mere wattle of artemisia, thatched and “chinked” with grass.

The mezquite seeds, then, are the bread of the Digger; but, bad as is the quality, the supply is often far behind the demands of his hungry stomach. For vegetables, he has the “yampa” root, an umbelliferous plant, which grows along the banks of the streams. This, with another kind, known as “kamas” or “quamash” (Camassia esculenta), is a spontaneous production; and the digging for these roots forms, at a certain season of the year, the principal occupation of the women. The “dibble-like” instrument already described is the root-digger. The roots here mentioned, before being eaten, have to undergo a process of cooking. The yampa is boiled in a very ingenious manner; but this piece of ingenuity is not native to the Shoshokees, and has been obtained from their more clever kindred, the Snakes. The pot is a wooden one; and yet they can boil meat in it, or make soup if they wish! Moreover, it is only a basket, a mere vessel of wicker-work! How, then, can water be boiled in it? If you had not been already told how it is done, it would no doubt puzzle you to find out.

But most likely you have read of a somewhat similar vessel among the Chippewa Indians, – especially the tribe known as the “Assineboins,” or stone boilers – who cook their fish or flesh in pots made of birch-bark. The phrase stone boilers will suggest to you how the difficulty is got over. The birch-bark pot is not set over fire; but stones are heated and thrown into it, – of course already filled with water. The hot stones soon cause the water to simmer, and fresh ones are added until it boils, and the meat is sufficiently cooked. By just such a process the “Snakes” cook their salmon and deer’s flesh, – their wicker pots being woven of so close a texture that not even water can pass through the interstices.

It is not often, however, that, the Digger is rich enough to have one of these wicker pots, – and when he has, he is often without anything to put into it.

The kamas roots are usually baked in a hole dug in the earth, and heated by stones taken from the fire. It requires nearly two days to bake them properly; and then, when taken out of the “oven,” the mass bears a strong resemblance to soft glue or size, and has a sweet and rather agreeable taste, – likened to that of baked pears or quinces.

I have not yet specified the whole of the Digger’s larder. Were he to depend altogether on the roots and seeds already mentioned, he would often have to starve, – and in reality he often does starve, – for, even with the additional supplies which his sterile soil scantily furnishes him, he is frequently the victim of famine.