364 TRANSACTIONS OF THE 



companions, sallied forth for a hunt. In the circuitous route they traveled, 

 they at last found themselves in the little valley I have mentioned, which 

 lies nearly inclosed by the circling walls of the mountain. Here they had 

 •the good fortune to come upon a band of elk, and Wahahshun's strong bow 

 and sure arrow soon laid two of them upon the fresh green sward. Load- 

 ing themselves with the choicest portions, they set out on their return to the 

 village. There is a narrow, but dangerous path leading through the chasm 

 of Ish-ne-quah-ish, well known to the Indians, along which any one who 

 has a steady head and sure foot, may pass in safety, but a single misstep 

 might precipitate the traveler hundreds of feet down the rocky gorge. They 

 chose this dangerous pathway, rather than the more circuitous one around 

 the mountain, for it saved a distance of more than three miles. When they 

 had gained the highest part of the pass, they were glad to throw themselves 

 in the cool shade of the overhanging bluff, for rest and refreshment, for it 

 was yet in the heat of the day. As they lay here, taking their rest, the 

 conversation turned upon the success of their day's hunt. Wahahshun, 

 who, moreover, was a great brag, was more than usually boastful of his 

 powers. He declared that they had never yet seen him fully tested; that 

 he could perform much more wonderful feats than they had ever yet 

 beheld, and wound up by saying that he could kill a deer as far as they 

 might point it out to him. 



" It is true, indeed," replied one of his companions, " that you have a 

 strong arm — that you can kill game much farther than we, but there are 

 things which are beyond even your power to do. Look," said he, pointing 

 to the opposite cliff, " should a deer be standing upon yonder height, he 

 would be beyond your harm, your longest arrow would not reach him." 

 Wahahshun sprang to his feet in an instant, and hastily snatching an arrow 

 from his quiver, he fitted it to his bow, and drawing it to its very beard, sent 

 it singing up the cliff, until it landed fairly upon its brow ; and from that 

 hour it has been called by the Indians, " Ish-ne-quah-ish," or, " Where the 

 arrow was shot." 



Romantic and traditional as may be this legend, it gives us a link in the 

 unwritten history of that unfortunate race who once dwelled within these 

 mountains, and who are now so rapidly disappearing from among us. It 

 moreover connects with the whole, the kindred feeling of humanity, which 

 must ever lend to it its chief interest. 



Here then, they dwelled; beside every stream they pitched their rude 

 and primitive huts. Every valley has resounded with their wild and enthu- 

 siastic songs of grief and joy, and every mountain side has echoed their 

 savage war whoops, as they engaged in the bloody contests, to satiate their 

 deadly and hereditary feuds. Their hardships and dangers on their lonely 

 hunts — their gloomy superstitions — their wild and savage sports — their 

 strong attachments to their hunting grounds, all go to make up their un- 

 written history. How strangely do these stirring scenes compare with the 

 solemn stillness which now reigns around this mountain, once their favorite 

 hunting grounds. One by one, like the strong arm which once sent the 

 arrows up the cliff, they have taken their places in the silent halls of death, 

 until now but a few remain to tell of their once numerous people. But it 

 presents the same unchanged appearance now, as it did upon the birth- 

 day of our race. This leads the mind up to those sublime thoughts of that 

 Being who piled these massive cliffs upon each other, and broke the mount- 

 ain asunder, and at the same time reared to Himself a monument, grand, 

 gloomy, and peculiar, that shall stand forever as an emblem of His mercy 

 and goodness to man. 



