Mr. Clarke, another partner, conducted his little band up Lewis River
to the mouth of a small stream coming in from the north, to which
the Canadians gave the name of the Pavion. Here he found a village or
encampment of forty huts or tents, covered with mats, and inhabited by
Nez Perces, or Pierced-nose Indians, as they are called by the traders;
but Chipunnish, as they are called by themselves. They are a hardy,
laborious, and somewhat knavish race, who lead a precarious life,
fishing and digging roots during the summer and autumn, hunting the deer
on snow-shoes during the winter, and traversing the Rocky Mountains in
the spring, to trade for buffalo skins with the hunting tribes of the
Missouri. In these migrations they are liable to be waylaid and attacked
by the Blackfeet, and other warlike and predatory tribes, and driven
back across the mountains with the loss of their horses, and of many of
their comrades.
A life of this unsettled and precarious kind is apt to render man
selfish, and such Mr. Clarke found the inhabitants of this village,
who were deficient in the usual hospitality of Indians; parting with
everything with extreme reluctance, and showing no sensibility to any
act of kindness. At the time of his arrival, they were all occupied in
catching and curing salmon.
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