On the 30th of October, the weather being fine, we left Fort Union, and stopped for a moment at Fort William, opposite the mouth of the Yellow Stone, to take leave of Mr. Campbell. The thicket of willows on the steep bank of the river had been cut down, in order to open a view to the yet unfinished fort, which is about 300 paces from the bank. Mr. Campbell presented me with some specimens of natural history, and furnished me with cigars, of which we had long been deprived; they really are a great comfort on a long voyage. We took charge of his letters, and having taken leave, proceeded on our voyage. As the provisions for my people consisted of bad old bacon, and my own stock was limited to a ham which had been obligingly left to me, from the very scanty stock of provisions at Fort Union, with some coffee, sugar, and ship biscuit, we were very desirous of obtaining some game, and went on shore on a tongue of land, on the south bank, where we soon saw several wolves, and a troop of seven deer, but could not get near enough to fire at them. Great clouds of smoke rose from several parts of the prairie, doubtless caused by the woodcutters of Fort William, the hunters of which we likewise perceived at a distance. The thickets were quite stripped of their foliage; the buffalo berry bushes alone yet bore some sere yellow leaves. Prairie hens, magpies, and the coal titmouse, the latter sitting among the willow bushes, were the only specimens of the feathered tribe which we observed. Numerous tracks of {310} animals were visible on the beach, and among them the small delicate footprint of two different kinds of mice. We proceeded till eight o'clock in the evening, when we lay to, as it grew too dark to venture farther. Afterwards, however, the moon rose in great splendour, and towards morning we had a sharp frost.

Very early on the 31st we saw numerous flights of prairie hens crossing the river in companies of thirty or forty, and heard the whistling of the elk stag, which, at times, like that of our European stags, is heard at a late hour. When we lay to for breakfast, we were in a thick forest, with the same underwood as we have before mentioned, especially buffalo berries, in great abundance. They were of a beautiful bright red colour, and very palatable, for, like our sloes, they require a touch of the frost before they are good eating, yet they were still astringent and acid; mixed with sugar, however, they were not unpleasant. With this fruit we refreshed our bears and my little fox, to which they afforded an agreeable variety in their food, but we did not fare so well ourselves, having hitherto tried, whenever it was possible, to obtain game, but in vain. Everywhere we found traces of beavers, gnawed trunks of trees, abattis and paths trodden smooth. The willow thickets were frequented by the coal mouse and magpie. As our firing had been ineffectual upon a flock of white swans and some wild geese, we again lay to near the Rivière Bourbeuse (White Earth River of Lewis and Clarke),[162] and some of our hunters traversed the country, while the boat remained fastened under the steep bank. Flakes of ice already floated down the Missouri, and broke, with much noise, against the snags in the water. This ice comes from the tributary rivers; in this place it came from the Rivière Bourbeuse, and the noise occasioned by it is increased by that of the banks falling in, the dashing of the waves, and the high wind. My live animals, which would not eat pork, were half famished, and the bears especially made an incessant growling, which was in every respect highly disagreeable. Our hopes were disappointed; the hunters had missed two head of game; and, at four in the afternoon, I continued the voyage, though very slowly, because my people complained of fatigue. If the Canadians are not always well fed, there is no depending upon their perseverance. We lay to early for the evening, and the people dispersed in the forest to hunt. At the spot where we now were, we saw many traces of all kinds of game. Beyond a close thicket of young poplars (cotton wood), were sand hills covered with yellow grass, and yet further distant, a forest of lofty poplars, beneath which the ground was clothed with a dark red undergrowth of cornus, rose, and buffalo berry bushes, entwined round their stems with clematis and vine; a few grapes were still hanging on the branches, but they were very small and indifferent, and did not suit the taste of even my little fox. The hunters were again unsuccessful: they had seen nothing but the usual species of birds; and as for me, I found only a small flock of Fringilla linaria, which were so tame that they almost settled upon our fowling-pieces. Our supper was extremely frugal; but on the morning of the following day, the 1st of November, when we lay to at a scattered forest, Morrin was so fortunate as to kill {311} a large elk, which quite revived our sunken spirits. In this forest there were deeply trodden paths of wild animals, and great numbers of prairie hens, which, however, were extremely shy; when they were roused, they uttered a note almost like that of our snipes, not, however, fainter towards the close, but louder and stronger. The ground was so dry, and the withered leaves rustled so beneath our feet as we trod upon them, that we could not get near them. The small striped squirrel was pretty frequent here. Another elk was afterwards shot, so that we were well provided for several days, and the lamentations of my hungry animals were put a stop to. As we proceeded on our voyage we frequently saw game, and the prairie hens, like all birds of that kind, flew about us with the swiftness of an arrow.

The singular red, burnt, conical summits of the hills attracted our attention, till we lay to, at a little before four o'clock, near an extensive forest on the south bank, to dress our dinner. The poplar wood was thin, near the bank, but had a thick undergrowth of roses, in which were a greater number of traces of wild animals than we had yet seen, a sight which instantly set our hunters in motion. I found the pretty little four-striped squirrel (Tamias quadrivittatus), in great numbers, which ran quickly along the ground, and up the trees, with the fruit of the rose in its mouth. My people caught one of these delicate creatures alive, which, to my great regret, afterwards made its escape. On account of the dry leaves we could not closely approach large game, though we heard the noise of considerable herds of them; and all our hunters returned before dark, except Mr. Bodmer, whom we looked for in vain. Night came on, we called, fired our pieces, but could obtain no intelligence of our fellow-traveller. We waited till eight o'clock, in no small anxiety, till at length we heard a shot higher up the river, which we immediately answered. Dreidoppel and Hugron instantly proceeded in that direction, and at length happily returned with our lost companion. In pursuing a stag, Mr. Bodmer had often changed his direction, and at last got quite bewildered; he had walked eight or ten miles, had been entangled in terrible thorny thickets, and got into a morass. At length he reached the prairie, where he perceived a troop of about twenty Indians, and hastened back into the forest; then, notwithstanding the Indians were so near, he fired six shots as signals of distress, and at length had the pleasure of descrying, from a hill, the shining surface of the river; thitherward he worked his way, directly through the thickets. As soon as he had been refreshed with some food, we loosened from the bank, where our presence had been betrayed by so many shots. We, however, lay to at a sand bank a little further down on the opposite side, and there passed a cold night, without fire or covering, in a high wind.

Next day, the 2nd November, was cold and bleak, and the tempestuous wind so unfavourable that we could only pass one tongue of land, and were compelled to stop nearly the whole day. A boat, laden with maize, belonging to Mr. Campbell, here passed us; it had left the Mandan villages a fortnight before. We had made our fire in a close thicket of poplars, under a {312} high steep bank, sheltered from the wind. Our hunters dispersed in different directions, and I soon heard a shot not far distant, on which I advanced. Dreidoppel had roused two Virginian deer, and wounded one of them. We followed the trace of this animal, which we killed, and I succeeded in shooting the other deer, which would not abandon its companion. This success afforded us some fresh game, and my people employed themselves in cooking all the remainder of the day, nor would anything induce them to stir from the spot. We found, in the forest, traces of large bears, saw the prairie fox come out of its burrow, and found no other animals, except the small striped squirrel and one species of birds, the coal mouse, which defies the severe winter in these parts. In the afternoon we hoped to shoot wolves or foxes that might be attracted by the entrails of the deer we had killed, and, therefore, concealed ourselves; but only crows, ravens, and magpies, were lured by the bait. At six in the evening it grew dark; we increased our fire for the night, about which we sat till nine o'clock, while my engagés lay snoring on the ground. The surrounding wood was pitch dark; the wolves howled incessantly on both sides of the river, till the moon rose, and the wind abated, so that we were able to proceed before daybreak on the 3rd of November.

We again observed the black strata of the bituminous coal, and found fine fragments, which had fallen down, together with the pieces of the grey sand-stone of the adjoining strata. I increased my collections with the most interesting series of the rocks of the Upper Missouri, which, I regret to say, have not reached Europe, as they were irrecoverably lost. On this voyage down the river I had better opportunities of examining the singular red, burnt, and conical tops of the summits of the bank, and they afforded me much interest. The rocky walls, and the red hills, covered with fragments burnt red, exactly resembled the refuse of our brick kilns, and they emitted, when struck, a clear sound, like that of the best Dutch clinkers. Under those red cones we generally saw a stratum of the bituminous coal; both often appeared together. I observed several slight hollows, resembling craters, surrounded by pyramids of the red rock. Caverns and holes, too, frequently appeared in this clay and sand-stone; and the remarkable light grey rocks, marked with darker transverse stripes, and with bright red tops, which now were pink, or different shades of crimson, as the faint rays of the sun here and there tinged them, and gave them a highly picturesque appearance. The swallows' nests fixed against the perpendicular walls, of which the Prince de Musignano[163] made a drawing, were now completely deserted by their tenants. At noon we lay to at a prairie, which we explored while my people were cooking their dinner; but we found only ravens, crows, magpies, and prairie hens. The ground between the yellow, sere grass, was so dry that the dust rose at every step; it was, in some places, overgrown with rose bushes, from two to four feet high, symphoria, and groups of poplars. We did not encounter any buffaloes till we reached Fort Clarke; they appeared to have retired from the river; very frequently, however, we saw the paths and traces of other animals. Flocks of prairie hens, forty or more {313} together, seemed particularly to choose, as their resort, the drift-wood on the banks of the river. A magpie was so tame that it settled on the rudder of the boat, while Morrin was at the helm. Towards evening we lay to, on the steep bank, where the kingfisher, the magpie, and the wren (doubtless, Troglodytes hyemalis), had taken up their abode, the latter among the dry drift-wood. Here we kindled our fire, in a tall poplar forest, where stems two feet thick nearly formed a circle. As we had passed the territory of the most dangerous Indians, and the nights became more and more cold, we constantly kept up a fire at our bivouac, and on this evening again began our night-watches, because we were approaching a very numerous Indian tribe near the Missouri. Mr. Bodmer amused himself with taking a sketch of our bivouac in the forest, where we leaned against the trees, sat round the fire and smoked our pipes, amidst the concert of the howling wolves and the screeching owls.[164]

On the 4th of November, we passed, at noon, the mouth of White Earth River (Rivière Blanche), or Goat Penn River of Lewis and Clarke. At this spot there was, formerly, a fort, which was abandoned in 1829, when Fort Union was built.[165] A little below the mouth of this river, the high wind obliged us to lay to; woods and thickets, with high dry grass, and prairies, either bare or covered with artemisia, formed an extensive wilderness, traversed by the paths of stags and buffaloes, where we found many deer's horns and other remains of these animals, as well as tracks of enormous bears (Ursus ferox). We did not, however, see any large game, but only prairie hens, and a few stray blackbirds and flocks of the small finches (Fringilla linaria), which were picking up the seeds of the plants among the grass. It appeared that this wilderness had been visited by Indians a short time before. After a considerable halt we proceeded at two o'clock, passed the Butte Carrée, and lay to, in the evening, near a narrow strip of wood on the steep southern bank, behind which extended the prairie. The night was clear, the wind cold, and the moon rose at twelve o'clock.

The morning of the 5th of November was bleak and chilly, and the wind numbed the fasting travellers, till we lay to, at eight o'clock, at a prairie overgrown with thick bushes, where we prepared our breakfast, and where the number of prairie hens immediately induced our hunters to bestir themselves. I had unluckily loaded my piece with small shot, for a Virginian deer ran close by me from out of a thicket, which I might otherwise have very easily shot. We saw a troop of elks, and our little friend, the striped squirrel, which, however, is not yet found so low down the river as the Mandan villages. At eleven o'clock we proceeded on our voyage, in which we were protected by the high banks from the bleak wind, and enlivened and cheered by the sun. A herd of antelopes crossed the Missouri before us, and we in vain attempted to intercept them. These pretty animals generally leave the Missouri at this time, and hasten, on the approach of winter, to the Black Hills. A magpie alighted on the rudder, uttering its note, "twit, twit," which is quite different from that of the European magpie. We saw but few ducks {314} and other water fowl, which had before afforded us so much amusement; doubtless, because they found more subsistence on the lakes, which were not yet frozen. We lay to, for the night, on the southern bank, where the forest was completely laid waste by the beavers. They had felled a number of large trees, chips of which were scattered about on the ground. Most of the trees were half gnawed through, broken down, or dead, and in this manner a bare place was formed in the forest. Not far off we saw in the river a beaver den, or, as the Americans call it, a beaver lodge, to which there was a very well trodden and smooth path, which we availed ourselves of, to go to and from our boat. Nature appears to have peculiarly adapted these remarkable animals to the large thickets of poplar and willow of the interior of North America, where the Whites, on their first arrival, found them in immense numbers, and soon hastened to sacrifice these harmless creatures to their love of gain. Numerous tracks of animals of all kinds, especially elks, bears, and wolves, were observed; the wolves prowled around us at no great distance, and at ten o'clock, when I had the watch, they came between our bright fire and the boat, which was only forty paces distant, being attracted by the smell of the meat.

On the next day, the 6th, we likewise met with many gnawed trees, which proved that the number of the beavers was still pretty considerable. Morrin had shot in the morning a fat fawn, which was gladly welcomed by us. We had traversed a forest admirably suited to the chase, when we met with a great deal of game, but, on account of the dry leaves, could not get near enough. Besides the animals which I have often mentioned, we saw some new species of birds, of which, however, I was quite unable to obtain a specimen.

At noon we passed the Little Missouri, at the mouth of which there were now extensive sand banks; we stopped a little below it, and found a spot very favourable for the chase, in a forest alternating with morass, high grass, and various plants, where we followed some fresh traces of large elks, without, however, being able to overtake them. We proceeded on our voyage till late in the night, and slept at a spot in the forest which was so dense, that we were compelled to hew down the bushes to make a space for our fire and resting-place. The night was dark, and the loud howling of the wolves was our never-ceasing music. Towards the morning there was a sharp frost, and the sky was partially clouded with the west wind. Our good genius had made us set out unusually early on the 7th November, for we had scarcely left the bank in the morning twilight, when we heard several shot, and soon after, at the very place where we had halted and slept, the loud voices of the Indians calling to us to return. They were, probably, a hunting party of Manitaries, who had been attracted in the early morning by the light of our fire. Being very happy at having, weak as we were, escaped visitors so little to be trusted, our engagés rowed with all their might, and there was soon a good distance between us. Our breakfast was prepared at nine o'clock, when we lay to on the north bank, in a narrow strip of forest, where we found some old Indian hunting lodges, built, in a conical {315} form, of dry timber. They had, doubtless, been left by the Manitaries, who had come thus far on their hunting excursions. The lower part of the huts, or lodges, was covered with the bark of trees; the entrance was square, and bones were scattered in all directions. We proceeded with a bleak, high wind, saw the singular clay tops of the hills, and, in the forest, the stages made of poles, where the Indian hunters dry the flesh of the animals they have taken in the chase. About twelve o'clock we came to the spot where some stakes indicated the former site of a Mandan village. Manoel Lisa, the Spanish fur dealer, had formerly a trading post at this place.[166] Rather further on, after we had turned a point of land, we saw a white horse on the bank, and soon after a group of Indians, with their horses, which they had brought to the river to water. In the wood, close by them, was a winter village of the Manitaries, or Gros Ventres, to which they had removed only two days previous, from their summer dwellings, and whose present chief was Itsichaicha, which the Canadians translate, Monkey-face. They hailed us, but I would not stop, and, the current being strong, we rapidly passed them. An Indian woman, with a handsome brown hound, probably of the European race, stood on the bank, and formed a very interesting object in the wild winter scene. We were now in the centre of the territory of the Manitaries, and were in momentary expectation of meeting with these Indians; in fact, we soon saw several of them on foot and on horseback. We had just doubled a point of land, and were looking for a sheltered spot for landing, when we observed some huts in a lofty wood of poplars, and were immediately called to by some Whites and Indians. We recognized old Charbonneau, and landed at once. It appeared that Messrs. Soublette and Campbell had founded a trading post in the Manitari villages, and that their people, together with these Indians, had arrived but yesterday at the winter village, situated at no great distance. The clerk, who had the management of the business here, was Mr. Dougherty, brother to the Indian agent,[167] who had likewise accompanied Major Long in his expedition to the Rocky Mountains, and who had, at present, old Charbonneau as interpreter. The latter had lately quitted the American Fur Company, but subsequently returned into their service. The Indians, under their principal chief, Lachpitzi-Sihrish (the yellow bear), had arrived, as I have said, but yesterday, in the winter village; and Dougherty, with Charbonneau and several engagés, lived in some huts hastily erected on the bank of the river, while a better and more substantial house was building in the Indian village. Mr. Dougherty, to whom we delivered letters from Mr. Campbell, would not suffer us to proceed, and entertained us with much hospitality. It gave us much pleasure to be again in human society, after having been so long deprived of it. While we were chatting and smoking our cigars, we perceived, near where we were sitting, a row of large casks, and learned that they were all filled with gunpowder, which, considering the high wind that blew directly into the hut, was a great want of prudence. Many interesting Indians came successively, among whom was the old chief, who was particularly struck with our long beards, from which these people have a kind of {316} aversion. The night was stormy and very dark: some of us slept in the boat; Dreidoppel and our engagés in the huts on shore.

The morning of the 8th November was bleak, cold, and frosty. I left the place early, accompanied by Charbonneau, and, after proceeding four miles, landed on the southern bank, to look for a petrified trunk of a tree, which Charbonneau had mentioned to me. While my people were taking their breakfast in a poplar wood, we proceeded alternately through thickets and open plains, towards the neighbouring hills, to the Fontaine Rouge, which was now a marsh covered with ice: not far from this was the tree, which is supposed to be part of an old cedar (juniperus); it is the lower part of a hollow trunk, with a portion of the roots; and, though this mass still perfectly shows the formation of the wood, it is now converted into a sounding stone. As the whole of this interesting specimen was much too ponderous to be removed, I carried off a good many fragments, without, however, disfiguring the tree, which will, doubtless, some day, find a place in some museum in the United States. This kind of petrified wood is not, by any means, unfrequent on the Missouri. Of the many interesting specimens of this kind which I had collected, very few have found their way to Europe.

After breakfast we continued our voyage, at eleven o'clock, and came to the spot where Mr. Pilcher's residence formerly stood, about eleven miles from Fort Clarke.[168] At twelve o'clock we were opposite the first Manitari summer village, and saw, on the other side, many Indians, who hallooed to Charbonneau. They had some smooth-haired hounds, spotted brown and white, with hanging ears, which were, doubtless, of European race. The invitations to land became more vociferous and numerous, and Charbonneau advised us to comply with them, which we did: we were immediately conducted, by a distinguished man, Ita-Widahki-Hisha (the red shield),[169] to his tent, which stood apart on the prairie, on the summit of the bank. The white leather tent was new, spacious, and handsomely ornamented with tufts of hair of various colours, and at each side of the entrance finished with a stripe and rosettes of dyed porcupine quills, very neatly executed. It had been well warmed by a good fire, a most refreshing sight to us. We took our seats around it, with the numerous family, the brother and uncle of the chief, young men, women, and children. The chief had rather a long beard, like the Punca chief, Shudegacheh, and his right breast was tattooed with black stripes. The old uncle had a very ugly countenance; he was fat, and his dress negligent and slovenly. The wife of the chief held a child in her lap, with a thick hare lip. A large dish of boiled maize and beans was immediately set before us; it was very tender and well dressed, and three of us eat out of the dish with spoons made of the horn of buffalo, or bighorn; after which the red Dacota pipe went round. Our people had likewise obtained refreshments, and presented the Indians, in return, with some tobacco and gunpowder. After we had conversed half an hour, through Charbonneau, with these friendly people, and given them an account of our battle with the Assiniboins, their enemies, we took leave and proceeded on our voyage. The {317} Indians accompanied us to the river-side, and on our way thither we saw the skin of a large white wolf hung on a tree, doubtless, by way of medicine, or offering. We left at one o'clock, and at two reached the Manitari village, Awachawi, which lay close to the bank;[170] a couple of women, in their round leather boats, set us across the river; they had hung some wood to their vessel, and rowed with great rapidity; some others were proceeding towards the river, with their boats hanging on their heads and down their backs. I shall describe these boats in the sequel.[171] At three o'clock we reached the Mandan village of Ruhptare, where a number of Indians came to the bank to greet their friends; Charbonneau hid himself, that they might not recognise him and invite him ashore. He had five names among these Indians—the chief of the little village; the man who possesses many gourds; the great horse from abroad; the forest bear; and fifth, which, as often happens among these Indians, is not very refined. After we had passed the bend in the river, we saw the second Mandan village, Mih-Tutta-Hang-Kush, and, at no great distance beyond it, Fort Clarke, which we reached at four o'clock, and were welcomed on the shore by Mr. Kipp, the director and clerk of the Fur Company, who led us to his house.

CHAPTER XXIV
DESCRIPTION OF FORT CLARKE AND THE ENVIRONS

Lewis and Clarke gave an account of the state of this part of the country at the time of their residence in the vicinity of the Mandan villages, in the winter of 1803-4.[172] At that time they erected a fort on the north bank of the Missouri, a little above the place where Fort Clarke now stands, but, at present, there is not the smallest trace of that post. The river has since changed its bed in such a manner, that the site of that building, which was then at some distance from the shore, is now in the middle of the stream. Such changes in the channel of the Missouri are of very common occurrence, so that all the islands, sand banks, little bends, and points of land formed by them, laid down in the special maps, are correct for only a short time. Above the Manitari villages is a place where the river made its way through a tongue of land, and now forms a channel nearly four miles from its former bed. This took place in 1828. Some persons think that Lewis and Clarke's fort would now be on the south bank of the Missouri. Charbonneau, who was interpreter for the Manitari language, and had lived thirty-seven years in this part of the country, was here at the same time as those travellers, passed the winter with them, and afterwards accompanied them to the Columbia River. He generally lives at Awatichai, the second village of the Manitaries, and, excepting some journeys, has always remained at this spot: hence he is well acquainted with the Manitaries and their language, though, as he candidly confessed, he could never learn to pronounce it correctly.[173]

Mr. Kipp, a Canadian of German descent, now clerk of the American Fur Company, and director of Fort Clarke, came here in 1822, as agent of the Columbia Fur Company.[174] At that time there was no fort here. Major Pilcher, the same gentleman who came with us up the {319} Lower Missouri, in order to take the management of the trading post of Mr. Cabanné, among the Omahas, was, at that time, a proprietor of the Missouri Fur Company, and directed a trading post a little above the Manitari villages, on the southern coast. In the spring of 1822,[175] this fort was abandoned, the above-mentioned Fur Company having been dissolved. In May, the same year, Mr. Kipp commenced building a fort in the prairie, which lay between the present Fort Clarke, and the forest, in which the inhabitants of Mih-Tutta-Hang-Kush live in the winter. This fort was completed in the month of November. In the same summer, Colonel Leavenworth,[176] with a considerable body of troops, artillery, and an auxiliary corps of the Dacota Indians, came up the river to the Arikkara villages, to chastise those people, who, not long before, had attacked the keel-boats of General Ashley, killed eighteen of the crew, and wounded many others. The inhabitants of the banks of the Missouri affirm that this enterprise was conducted with very little energy; they retired from the enemy's villages without destroying them, or doing much injury to the inhabitants, at which the allied Indians, especially, were much dissatisfied.[177] The Arikkaras, on the other hand, became excessively arrogant, and henceforth attacked and murdered all the white men who were so unfortunate as to fall in their way. When Lewis and Clarke were here, these people were friendly, but now they are violently inimical to the Whites, and have killed many more than any other nation on the Missouri.[178] After Colonel Leavenworth's retreat, the Arikkaras removed to a station higher up the river, and settled in the forest which the Mandans have now selected for their winter quarters.[179] The garrison of the fort, built by Mr. Kipp, consisted of only five men, besides Mr. Tilton, the director. It was, therefore, in constant danger, because of the near vicinity of the Arikkaras. Those savages remained constantly close to the fort: one of their chiefs, Stanapat (the little hawk with the bloody hand) killed one of Mr. Tilton's people at the very door of the fort. Three white men, coming from the Rocky Mountains, were obliged by the Arikkaras, who lay in wait, to abandon their boat, and to escape, at imminent risk of their lives, to the opposite shore. In the same autumn these Indians murdered five persons belonging to the French Company on Cannon-ball River. Neither Messrs. Tilton and Kipp, nor any of their people, durst venture out of the fort, where they were obliged to remain in durance the whole of the autumn. Subsequently, the latter resided in a Mandan village till the fort was completed, though those people were on a friendly footing with the Arikkaras. When the man above-named was shot at the door of the fort, the Mandans were very anxious to declare war against the Arikkaras; but this was overruled, because the people belonging to the Columbia Fur Company, who had to come hither by land from Lake Travers and St. Peter's River, would inevitably have suffered by it.[180]

At the beginning of December, Mr. Laidlow, now on the Little Missouri, came from Lake Travers with six wagons laden with goods, on which a sort of peace was concluded with the Arikkaras.[181] They came first to the fort, because they could nowhere else obtain goods from the Whites, and the {320} precaution was always taken of admitting only a few of them at a time. The peace with these Indians was not, as might have been expected, of any long duration. They always behaved extremely treacherously, and it was at length dangerous even to go out for water, wood, or other necessaries, and the people were frequently threatened and intimidated; for which reason, Mr. Tilton left the fort, and went to the next Mandan village, where he resided in the hut of the distinguished chief, Tohp-Ka-Singka (the four men), who protected him against every attack. He afterwards went down to St. Louis.

In the spring of that year the Arikkaras returned to their former villages, declaring that they would, in future, live in peace with the white men. Mr. Kipp alone remained behind, and, throughout the summer, did not see a white man; the skins and goods of the Company were in his keeping in the hut of the chief, but he afterwards built a house near the village, where he dwelt, till 1824, with one Jeffers, who, with seven men, and wagons laden with goods, had come from Lake Travers. The Mandans had hitherto protected the abandoned fort, and kept it in order, that the Arikkaras might not burn it. During the summer Mr. Kipp caused the palisades of the fort to be cut down close to the ground, and the Mandans conveyed the wood to their village, carrying some of the beams on their shoulders, and floated the remainder down the river. The buildings were likewise destroyed. Several apartments were added to Mr. Kipp's house, and the palisades were placed round it. As he had not a sufficient quantity of goods, Mr. Kipp sent Charbonneau (who was likewise in the service of the Columbia Fur Company), in company with another man, to fetch a wagon-load from Lake Travers; but, on their return, encountering a party of Assiniboins, they were compelled to abandon their wagon, horses, and goods, and all was lost. About this time the Crows arrived with a good supply of furs, but as Mr. Kipp had not a sufficient number of articles to barter, he himself undertook, with two Half-breeds, the journey to Lake Travers, and succeeded in bringing a wagon-load in safety.

On his way he perceived a camp of the Dacota, and avoided it; and, during the night, lost his horses, but was fortunate enough to recover them. When he returned, General Atkinson, with 500 or 600 troops, had been at the Mandan villages, whence he proceeded upwards to Milk River. These troops returned during the summer, and hostilities had nearly ensued between them and the Crows, who were with the Mandans.[182] The French Fur Company had sent some of their servants with the General to trade in the Mandan villages. Bissonette was the chief trader. In the autumn Mr. Tilton came up from St. Louis, in a keel-boat laden with goods. Mr. Kipp had, meantime, sent some people to the Assiniboins, Crees, and Ojibuas, to invite their chiefs to come hither and open a trade with them. The troops had brought a person named Wilson, as agent of the United States for the Indians;[183] and all these people lived together in the Mandan fort. Peace was therefore concluded between those three Indian tribes, as well with the Whites as with the Mandans and their allies. The object was to break off their connexion {321} in the north with the English, and to draw them to the Missouri. In April, 1825, Messrs. Wilson and Tilton returned to St. Louis, and Kipp alone remained in the fort, with five men.[184] In November, Mr. Tilton returned with a supply of goods, and Mr. Kipp went to White Earth River, carrying with him a fine selection. Here he built a fort, a little on this side of the mouth of the river, and remained there during the winter, trading with the Assiniboins. In the autumn of 1826 the Sioux made an attack on the Mandans and Manitaries, killed above fifty of the latter, a couple of the Mandans, and likewise a Crow Indian, who happened to be on the spot. This year, the Columbia Fur Company united with the American Fur Company, and commenced its operations here on the Missouri.[185] In the winter of 1830 Mr. Kipp caused the wood to be prepared for the present Fort Clarke, and the palisades were erected in the spring of 1831. Mr. Mitchell now undertook the direction of this new fort, which he completed to a certain extent, and called Fort Clarke. In July, with forty-five men, Mr. Kipp was sent to Maria River, where he built the fort, the ruins of which I have mentioned above. He remained there till the spring of 1832, when he was succeeded by Mr. Mitchell, who then built the present Fort Piekann, or Mc Kenzie.[186] Mr. Kipp has since had the direction of Fort Clarke, except in the winter of 1832-33, when Mr. Lamont had it,[187] and Kipp was under him as clerk. Skirmishes with the Sioux took place in the neighbourhood; and, on one occasion, when Lamont and Kipp were conversing by the fireside, they were startled by a shot fired through the window, while the ball passed between them, and lodged in the wall. The Mandans, who were brought hither by Mr. Kipp, have remained here for eleven years, in the same position as then, and their number has neither increased nor diminished. The trade with the Indians is, on the whole, unchanged, and the goods remain nearly at the same prices, except when their value is raised by foreign merchants. This year (1833), on account of the competition with Messrs. Soublette and Campbell, twelve dollars were paid for a large beaver-skin, though it was, in reality, worth no more than four dollars in the United States. But it was of great moment to the Company not to suffer any other party to compete with them. The Indians now generally require horses in exchange for their beavers; and as there are but few at Fort Clarke, messengers were despatched to Fort Pièrre to fetch some. Messrs. Soublette and Campbell had, at present, one of their people in each of the neighbouring Indian villages. I have already mentioned their clerk, Mr. Dougherty, who lived among the Manitaries, and stated that they had taken Charbonneau into their pay. Mr. Kipp had likewise stationed a trader among the Manitaries, who, in the winter, visited the villages in a sledge. The circumstances which took place during the thirty-seven years of Charbonneau's residence in the Manitari and Mandan villages, were nearly as follows:—

At his first arrival, the three Manitari villages stood precisely as they do now, and Charbonneau immediately took up his residence in the central one. No commercial intercourse had then been opened with St. Louis; and he, as the only white man on the spot, procured what he wanted {322} from the north, of the English. In the year of his arrival, 1300 or 1400 Sioux, united with 700 Arikkaras, attacked the foremost Mandan village, and about 1000 Manitaries hastened to assist the latter. They repulsed the enemy, killing more than 100 of them, among whom was the son of Tanahah-Tahka (the white cow), an Arikkara chief. These people had before lived in the nearest forest, below that which the Mandans of Mih-Tutta-Hang-Kush now inhabit during the winter; but, after this battle, they removed further down the Missouri, and built their villages at the spot where we saw them.[188] After the war, they left all their effects behind them in their huts. Subsequently they often returned in a hostile manner, but never in such numbers as at that time. Five or six years before Charbonneau arrived, the Sioux, with 1500 tents, came on a visit to the vicinity of the Manitari villages. Two of the latter, a man and woman, who were returning from the Crows, were murdered by some of the Sioux; on which the Manitaries recklessly killed five Sioux, who happened to be with them. This was the signal for war. The Sioux surrounded the village; the inhabitants were unable to procure either wood or water, as the river was at some distance. There they remained closely blockaded for nine days, drinking only the dirty stagnant water which was in the village. The horses collected in the huts suffered hunger and thirst, and gnawed off the bark of the wood of the posts. A chief, who had erected a kind of bulwark on the top of his hut, shot eleven Sioux, but was, in the sequel, killed by a successful fire from the enemy.

On the ninth day the old men gave orders that the young warriors should mount their horses and go out to meet the enemy, while all the inhabitants should issue forth and fetch water from the river. This was done, but, when the Sioux observed the intended attack, they struck their tents and retired, conducting their women and children along the chain of hills. Eighty of the horses which were led to the river perished, because it was not possible to prevent them from drinking too eagerly. The Sioux were pursued, and many of them killed. During Charbonneau's time, another war party of the same nation appeared on the other bank of the Missouri; in the large Manitari village there were only eighteen men, the rest being out on a hunting expedition, but the other village collected all its warriors. The Mandans joined them, they forded the river on horseback to make an attack, and reached a ravine, where they faced the foe. The Sioux called to the Manitaries, that they would first smoke together, on which all sat down, showed each other their pipes, and began to smoke. This done, the chief of the Sioux advanced and called to his adversaries that they were come here to fight; both sides knew that they had brave men opposed to them, and he, therefore, considered it would be more honourable to leave the wood, and combat in the open plain, which was agreed to by both parties. They proceeded into the plain and commenced the attack. Two Mandans, the Coal, and the Black Cat,[189] had previously had a dispute with each other, and were now resolved to see which of them would fight the best. The Sioux soon gained considerable advantages, and the Mandans and Manitaries {323} were already beginning to retreat towards the forest, when the Black Cat called to the Coal, his adversary, who was among the retreating party, whether this retreat was a proof of his vaunted courage? On which the Coal recovered himself, took his adversary by the arm, and said, "Well then, we will die together!" They both turned back and rode into the thickest of the enemy. Their example was instantly followed by all the other warriors; they recommenced the attack with renewed vigour; the enemy was totally worsted, and many of their people killed.

At another time a war party of the Sioux appeared opposite the village Les Souliers,[190] in the large prairie. The Manitaries crossed the river, defeated the enemy, and pursued them for twenty miles. The Sioux constantly remained near the river to keep their opponents from their camp in hills, where their women and children were placed. A Sioux, wearing a handsome feather cap and tufts of hair, proceeded along the hills, and a Manitari chief pursued this enemy on a fleeter horse, and overtook him. Both dismounted and fought with their knives till the Sioux was killed. Forty-eight of the enemy were slain, while the Manitaries lost only three men. The Mandans had supported their allies and neighbours in this battle. Charbonneau was witness of this action, and said that in the following night the scalp dance was performed. Ten or twelve years ago the Manitaries were preparing an antelope park, and one of their people, who was occupied in a ravine, collecting the wood necessary for the purpose, was shot by some Assiniboins, who were lying in ambush. The relations were in the act of placing the deceased on the stage for the dead, when about thirty Assiniboins, with two calumets, came to the village to conclude a peace, not knowing that another band of their people had just committed the above-named murder. All the inhabitants hastened together, attacked and killed about twenty Assiniboins, took three of the women prisoners, while the few remaining of the party escaped by flight. Individuals are even now often murdered on both sides; and only three weeks before my arrival at Fort Clarke, three of the enemy had come to the bank opposite the fort, and made signals that they wished to be conveyed across. A man and two women accordingly went over in a leather boat, on which the strangers immediately shot the man, and the women with difficulty escaped.

Fort Clarke is about three quarters of a mile below the site of the old fort of Lewis and Clarke, 300 paces from the Mandan village, Mih-Tutta-Hang-Kush, and between eighty and ninety paces from the southern side of the river, in a level prairie, above the rather steep bank of the Missouri. This bank, immediately below the Indian village, is much higher and quite perpendicular. About 200 paces below the fort is a streamlet which has steep clay banks, and at the distance of 200 paces from the Missouri divides into two arms, one of which comes down further south, and the other about 700 paces behind the fort, after issuing from the hills into the level prairie. This chain of hills limits the background of the prairie, and closes on that side the view from the fort.[191] The ground near the stream {324} is overgrown with grass, and, in its many windings, bushes and tall plants adorn the banks, especially of the class syngenesia, such as solidago, &c., the seeds of which are sought after in winter by the Fringilla linaria, and the Emberiza nivalis. In the spring and autumn wild ducks frequent this stream, which is inhabited by river tortoises; the unio, too, is found in it. As soon as it freezes, which, in 1833, it did in November, the ducks migrate to the ponds and lakes a few miles distant, where they remain with pelicans, swans, wild geese, divers, cranes, and other water fowl, till these lakes are likewise frozen. About a league below Fort Clarke the Missouri makes a bend to the east or north-east, and on this part of the bank is a rather extensive forest, in which the inhabitants of Mih-Tutta-Hang-Kush have built their winter village of sixty or seventy huts. From the above village there is easy access across the prairie, which is, in general, level, to Ruhptare, the second Mandan village, there being only a couple of small ravines filled with brushwood, the resort of prairie hens, to break the level. Opposite the fort, on the left shore of the Missouri, a fine forest of poplars, elms, maples, ash, &c., with a thick undergrowth of every variety of shrub, extends to the prairie hills. In this forest the inhabitants of Ruhptare live in the winter time, directly opposite their summer village.[192]

Fort Clarke itself is built on the same plan as the other trading posts of the Company. The front and back of the square are forty-four paces in length, the sides, forty-nine paces. The northern and southern corners have block-houses; the buildings are of one story, and they were just erecting a new one, with a couple of rooms, having good glass windows, which, however, was not yet completed. In front of the postern gate was the machine in which the skins are made up into bundles, each bundle consisting of ten buffalo hides, and weighing 100 pounds. A small piece of garden-ground is laid out behind the fort, and not far off, on the banks of the stream, the Indians had planted some small fields of maize and gourds. There were only three dogs in the fort, which were always shut out in the evening. At this time we had little opportunity of following the chase; the herds of buffaloes had gone to a distance, and the hunters were obliged to make long excursions before they could meet with them. There was, however, a sufficient stock of food for the horses in the fort, and sometimes a good many horses were kept there; but, at this season, most of them had been sold, in consequence of the competition in trade. These animals are very badly treated; they are scarcely housed in a stable during the whole winter, and in the coldest nights they were in the court-yard, while the congealed snow lay on their backs and shoulders, some inches thick. They had no food in the winter, except the bark of the poplar trees in the forest; and, when the weather was not too rigorous, and the snow too deep, they were driven thither daily. The dogs have also to pass the night in ice and snow. Fort Clarke possessed no oxen, nor any domestic animals, except some cocks and hens, which latter begin to lay in March. Oxen would be in danger from the numerous Indians, who consider them as a medicine {325} of the white men, which may be prejudicial to them in hunting the buffaloes. There were a few tame cats in the fort, but not sufficient to reduce the great numbers of rats. These animals (the Norway rats) were so numerous and troublesome, that no kind of provision was safe from their voracity; their favourite food was the maize, among which they committed sad havoc; and it was calculated that they daily devoured five bushels, or 250 pounds. There were often from 500 to 800 bushels of this corn in the loft at a time. The rats were brought hither by the American ships; but, as yet, they have not reached the Manitari villages. The Indians killed seven of these creatures in the prairie, which were on their route from Fort Clarke to those villages. No rats have since attempted to visit them, but it is more than probable that they will, ere long, find their way thither.

The only neighbours of the fort are the Indian villages. They are surrounded by their stages for the dead, which form a very strange appearance, and, in the warm season, when the wind blows from that direction, spread most disagreeable and unwholesome exhalations.[193] In the summer time, the many Indians engaged in various occupations in the prairie, and their numerous horses grazing around, give great animation to the country; but, in winter, the landscape is extremely dead and monotonous. The extensive white plain is enlivened by neither man nor beast, unless, indeed, some herds of buffaloes are in the neighbourhood, or a few hungry wolves are prowling about in search of food. At that season there is generally more life on the frozen river, as the Indians are continually going backwards and forwards from their winter to their summer villages, and to the fort. Men, women, children, and dogs, drawing little sledges, are seen on it all day long; and the people of the fort amuse themselves with skating, and the children with sledges, especially on Sundays.[194]

The climate in the country about Fort Clarke is, in general, healthy; yet, in the spring and autumn, and even in winter, there are always some disorders which carry off many of the inhabitants, especially the Indians, who are entirely destitute of medical assistance. In the winter which we passed here, several such epidemics prevailed, which affected very many of the people; and some of the Whites, too, were severe sufferers. A great many children were carried off by the hooping-cough, and some Indians by diarrhœa and colic; and the cholera having prevailed on the Lower Missouri, it was at first feared that it had penetrated thus far, though these apprehensions afterwards proved to be groundless. In consequence of the frequent and sudden changes of the temperature, catarrh is very common among the half-naked Indians; agues are quite unknown here. The winter is usually accompanied with much rain, snow, stormy, and tempestuous weather. At times there have even been snow-storms late in May, from which Indians have perished in the prairie. In April, last year, a father and son were there frozen to death.

Great inundations are rare; since Charbonneau came to this country, which was about thirty-seven {326} years since, there have been only two, which, however, were very severe.[195] Earthquakes, which are frequent on the Mississippi, have not been noticed here; a circumstance confirmed by Volney. March and April are called by the Indians the horses' winter, because, when the weather is warm, the horses are often driven to pasture in the prairie, and then violent storms of snow sometimes occur suddenly, and destroy many of these animals.

The difference of climate a few days' journey down the Missouri is often very great; for in many seasons the gourds are ripe in the Arikkara villages, when they are only in blossom with the Mandans, and the trees are in flower there, when the leaves are but just beginning to sprout here; a difference which is, of course, still greater the further you go down the river. At the Mandan villages, the leaves of the plants seldom appear before May; the willows on the banks, perhaps, a little sooner. The flowers in the prairie are said not to blossom earlier, and in some years the trees have not been clothed with foliage till the end of May. The changes of temperature are often sudden and unpleasant.[196] The summer is always dry and hot, yet the heat is not so enervating as on the Mississippi, though, in the prairies, when there is no wind stirring, it is excessively oppressive. Swarms of mosquitoes are a great torment in the summer time, but not in the same degree every year. Last summer they were not very numerous. We were assured that July is the only month in the year which is without frost; before and after it there are frosts nightly.[197] In the heat of summer the creeks become dry, and the crops of maize of the Indians often fail in consequence of the drought. In the year 1833, the crop was not very good, though it did not entirely fail. Autumn is generally the most pleasant season of the year.

Fine, bright, clear days, with moderate heat, prevail; the leaves, indeed, fall in October; and even in autumn {327} the changes of temperature are frequently great and rapid. On the 17th October the weather was fine, serene, and warm, and on the 18th such a sharp frost, with a storm of snow, that two Indians were frozen to death in the prairie. The winter is long, and generally severe; most animals then migrate, and, therefore, the winter Fauna has but a few species whereof to boast. We were told that, about new year, there is usually a very cold interval of about a week, which was the case during our visit; and the Indians have, on this account, called one of their months "the moon of the seven cold days." The winter of 1833-34 is considered as one of the most severe. The mercury in the thermometer was frozen for several days, and, at Fort Union, the cold is said to have been 47°, Fahrenheit, below zero.[198] The snow is seldom more than two feet deep, but it remains a long time, often unchanged till the month of March—a proof of the dryness of the climate. In the dreadful storms of snow which perfectly darken the air, the compass is an important and necessary instrument; in fact, it is, at all times, indispensable in these prairies. The winter of 1832 was extremely mild: there was scarcely any snow, and the inhabitants did not remember to have had such a season for many years. The Missouri generally freezes in November. Last year (1832), on the 24th November, and likewise in the winter of this year (1833), it froze on the 23rd November, but only in some places, at which the ice was passable two days after.

Close to the fort it is seldom frozen quite across, there being, generally, a narrow open channel, which, however, is not of any great length. The freezing of the Missouri in this part of the country, which continues uninterruptedly throughout the winter, is not to be compared with that of other large rivers; for instance, the Mississippi—for the Upper Missouri has at this season much less depth and rapidity, so that it freezes the more easily. Mr. Kipp recollected, in in the eleven years of his residence here, the greatest degree of cold to have been 36° below zero. The east and north winds are generally accompanied, at Fort Clarke, with snow and rain: the north and north-west winds are cold. In spring and autumn there are violent storms, and but few days are without wind, which, in fact, is pretty nearly the case in all seasons of the year. In cold winters the sun often has a parhelion-on either side. In the spring and autumn, there are often splendid northern lights, while in winter they are very rare, and are most frequently seen in autumn at about ten o'clock in the evening.

The water of the Missouri is cold, refreshing, and very wholesome. In spring and summer it is not so transparent as at other times; in frosty weather in winter, it is perfectly clear, as many travellers have testified. The water in the small streams is generally bad, having something of a brackish taste; and the banks of the Missouri are frequently covered with a very thin, white, saline coating. Lewis and Clarke frequently speak of this phenomenon. The soil in this country is said to be, in general, fruitful in the plains; and especially in the valleys which lie {328} between the hills, there is a stratum of black mould, more than two feet thick, but the excessive drought, in summer and winter, causes many crops to fail. The almost incessant wind dries the ground to such a degree, that it soon absorbs the little moisture proceeding from the rain. The dew, besides, is not sufficiently copious to refresh and support the parched vegetation, as it does in hot countries. When manure was spread upon the prairies, it was immediately converted into dust, and blown away by the wind. The Mandans and Manitaries cultivate very fine maize, without ever manuring the ground; but their fields are on the low banks of the river, sufficiently sheltered by eminences, where the soil is particularly fruitful. When, after many years, the field is exhausted, they let it lie fallow, and cultivate another spot, since these extensive wildernesses offer them inexhaustible resources. They have been advised to use manure, at which, however, they only laugh. Mr. Kipp intended to make a trial with some exhausted Indian land, and to manure it; for this purpose, he meant to spread earth over the manure, that the wind might not so easily affect it, and in this way he hoped, in the sequel, to convince the Indians, who pertinaciously abide by their old prejudices. They have extremely fine maize of different species. Mr. Kipp has made frequent trials of blue flowering potatoes, which succeeded extremely well; but the Indians were so eager after these incomparable roots, that he could not keep enough for seed. One Indian, however, in Mih-Tutta-Hang-Kush, had prudently preserved some potatoes in order to plant them; and thus it may be hoped that they will be gradually propagated among these people.

It appears, from what has been above stated, that drought and want of wood are the chief impediments to the cultivation and settlement of the Whites in the prairies of the Upper Missouri—an opinion in which most of the persons engaged in the service of the Company agree, though Bradbury thinks differently.[199]

With respect to the geological formation of the soil, it appears chiefly to consist of clay, sand, and sand-stone. All the chains of hills which traverse the prairie, and of which there is one along both the banks of the Missouri, consist of clay mixed with sand, and of sand-stone, with many impressions and petrifactions of shell-fish, and the singular baculites, which are found everywhere on the Missouri and its tributaries, and even here and there in the beds of the streams. Fossil bones are frequently found, and, in the calcareous rock further down the Missouri, entire skeletons, twelve, fourteen, or even more, feet in length, of reptiles of the crocodile kind, of which I brought back one, found in the vicinity of the Big Bend, for which I am indebted to the kindness of Major O'Fallon, at St. Louis.[200] It appears that there are no minerals in this country, and, {329} in the immediate vicinity of Fort Clarke, not even lime. On the other hand, the strata of black, bituminous coal appear in the hills for many hundred miles. This coal ignites easily, with a strong sulphureous smell, but it does not emit sufficient heat to serve as fuel or for the forge.[201] In many places it may be evidently seen that these strata have been on fire. The surrounding clay is frequently burnt red, and the shards are perfectly coloured, hard and sonorous, like our bricks and Dutch clinkers. About Fort Clarke they know nothing of such fires, but they have frequently occurred lower down the Missouri. The red clay, which we have so often spoken of, appears to have been elevated by the action of fire. On the banks, extremely light, porous, cellular, red brown scoriæ are everywhere found, which the people here call pumice stone, though they are totally different from the fossil usually so called, and of which extensive strata are found on the banks of the Rhine. Petrifactions of animals and plants are to be looked for only on the banks of the rivers, though they doubtless are as frequent in the chains of hills, where they are concealed by the greensward from the eye of the passing observer. I was told that, in the prairie, about twenty miles distant from Fort Clarke, there are places in the hills where the organic remains of the antediluvian world lie exposed on the surface, but that country can be visited only for short intervals of time, and that, too, attended with great danger, on account of the hostile Indians. Entire petrified trunks of trees, such as we had observed on the banks of the Missouri, are said to be there, and impressions of crabs, or similar crustacea, have been found. The Indians speak of a petrified man, at the distance of three or four days' journey, whose head is round, and lies detached from the body. The story about the head is, probably, incorrect, as they pretend to be able to discern the countenance; but the rest of the skeleton is said plainly and distinctly to be seen. These are, doubtless, the remains of some antediluvian animal. It is much to be regretted that it is impracticable to explore, without much risk, a country so abounding with remains of this nature.

The extensive prairies, and their hills, certainly produce a great variety of plants, of which a part only have been described. Bradbury collected many plants about the Mandan villages, which were described by Pursh;[202] and Nuttall's works likewise contain many;[203] but there is, undoubtedly, much remaining to be done, especially in the chain of the Black Hills. The country, about the Missouri, has its peculiar botanical characters. The tongues of land at the bends of the river are generally covered with wood; other parts of the banks more rarely so; the species of trees and shrubs which occur here have already been mentioned. There are no pines in the vicinity of Fort Clarke; but they are found higher up the river; nor are there any birch trees; indeed, I did not meet with one on the whole course of the Missouri. These do not grow, except on the tributaries of the Upper Missouri, for instance, Knife River. At the distance of three days' journey from the mouth, at the foot of the mountains which are improperly called La Côte Noire, though they join the Black Hills, of which they are a branch, the latter form {330} a very interesting chain, which runs nearly in a north-east direction from La Platte and the great northern bend of the Missouri. They lie about 100 miles to the east of the Rocky Mountains, and form the watershed between the Missouri, Mississippi, and Arkansas, several rivers having their sources in those mountains.[204] Many kinds of fossils, and numerous species of plants and animals, which do not occur on the Missouri, are found on those hills. The paper birch (Betula papyracea) grows there, of the bark of which the northern Indians make the large pirogues, which are described in various works on North America. This tree is often thicker than a man's body; the bark is stripped off in large sheets, by making two parallel transverse incisions above and below, and then a perpendicular incision; after which the bark is loosened by means of wooden wedges. It is dry, and comes off very easily. Within is the smooth watered skin used by the Indians for writing their characters upon, from which circumstance the tree has derived its botanical name. The Black Hills are said to be likewise interesting in a zoological point of view. Among other animals found there, are the panther (Felis concolor), several species of rodentia, squirrels, &c.