CHAPTER XV.

Monday, 21. At sunrise we proceeded along the northern side of the river for a short distance, when finding the ravines too steep, we crossed to the south; but after continuing for three miles, returned to the north and took our course through the plains, at some distance from the river. After making fifteen miles, we came to the forks of the river, the largest branch of which bears south 75° west to the mountains, while the course of the other is north 40° west. We halted for dinner, and believing, on examination, that the northern branch came from the mountains, and would probably lead us to the most northern extent of Maria’s river, we proceeded along, though at a distance over the plains, till we struck it eight miles from the junction. The river is about thirty yards wide, the water clear, but shallow, rapid, and unfit for navigation. It is closely confined between cliffs of freestone, and the adjacent country broken and poor. We crossed to the south side, and proceeded for five miles, till we encamped under a cliff, where not seeing any timber, we made a fire of buffaloe dung, and passed the night. The next day,

Tuesday, 22, we went on; but as the ground was now steep and unequal, and the horses’ feet very sore, we were obliged to proceed slowly. The river is still confined by freestone cliffs, till at the distance of seven miles the country opens, is less covered with gravel, and has some bottoms, though destitute of timber or underbrush. The river here makes a considerable bend to the northwest, so that we crossed the plains for eleven miles when we again crossed the river. Here we halted for dinner, and having no wood, made a fire of the dung of buffaloe, with which we cooked the last of our meat, except a piece of spoiled buffaloe. Our course then lay across a level beautiful plain, with wide bottoms near the bank of the river. The banks are about three or four feet high, but are not overflowed. After crossing for ten miles a bend of the river towards the south, we saw, for the first time during the day, a clump of cottonwood trees in an extensive bottom, and halted there for the night. This place is about ten miles below the foot of the Rocky mountains; and being now able to trace distinctly that the point at which the river issued from those mountains, was to the south of west, we concluded that we had reached its most northern point, and as we have ceased to hope that any branches of Maria’s river extend as far north as the fiftieth degree of latitude, we deem it useless to proceed further, and rely chiefly on Milk and White-earth rivers for the desired boundary. We therefore determined to remain here two days, for the purpose of making the necessary observations, and resting our horses. The next morning,

Wednesday, 23, Drewyer was sent to examine the bearings of the river, till its entrance into the mountains, which he found to be at the distance of ten miles, and in a direction south 50° west; he had seen also the remains of a camp of eleven leathern lodges, recently abandoned, which induced us to suppose that the Minnetarees of Fort de Prairie are somewhere in this neighbourhood; a suspicion which was confirmed by the return of the hunters, who had seen no game of any kind. As these Indians have probably followed the buffaloe towards the main branch of Maria’s river, we shall not strike it above the north branch. The course of the mountains still continues from southeast to northwest; in which last direction from us, the front range appears to terminate abruptly at the distance of thirty-five miles. Those which are to the southwest, and more distinctly in view, are of an irregular form, composed chiefly of clay, with a very small mixture of rock, without timber, and although low are yet partially covered with snow to their bases. The river itself has nearly double the volume of water which it possessed when we first saw it below, a circumstance to be ascribed, no doubt, to the great evaporation and absorption of the water in its passage through these open plains. The rock in this neighbourhood is of a white colour, and a fine grit, and lies in horizontal strata in the bluffs of the river. We attempted to take some fish, but could procure only a single trout. We had, therefore, nothing to eat, except the grease which we pressed from our tainted meat, and formed a mush of cows, reserving one meal more of the same kind for to-morrow. We have seen near this place a number of the whistling squirrel, common in the country watered by the Columbia, but which we observed here for the first time in the plains of the Missouri. The cottonwood too, of this place, is similar to that of the Columbia. Our observations this evening were prevented by clouds. The weather was clear for a short time in the morning,

Thursday, 24, but the sky soon clouded over, and it rained during the rest of the day. We were therefore obliged to remain one day longer for the purpose of completing our observations. Our situation now became unpleasant from the rain, the coldness of the air, and the total absence of all game; for the hunters could find nothing of a large kind, and we were obliged to subsist on a few pigeons and a kettle of mush made of the remainder of our bread of cows. This supplied us with one more meal in the morning,

Friday, 25, when finding that the cold and rainy weather would still detain us here, two of the men were despatched to hunt. They returned in the evening with a fine buck, on which we fared sumptuously. In their excursion they had gone as far as the main branch of Maria’s river, at the distance of ten miles, through an open extensive valley, in which were scattered a great number of lodges lately evacuated. The next morning,

Saturday, 26, the weather was still cloudy, so that no observation could be made, and what added to our disappointment, captain Lewis’s chronometer stopped yesterday from some unknown cause, though when set in motion again it went as usual. We now despaired of taking the longitude of this place; and as our staying any longer might endanger our return to the United States during the present season, we, therefore, waited till nine o’clock, in hopes of a change of weather; but seeing no prospect of that kind, we mounted our horses, and leaving with reluctance our position, which we now named Camp Disappointment, directed our course across the open plains, in a direction nearly southeast. At twelve miles distance we reached a branch of Maria’s river, about sixty-five yards wide, which we crossed, and continued along its southern side for two miles, where it is joined by another branch, nearly equal in size from the southwest, and far more clear than the north branch, which is turbid, though the beds of both are composed of pebbles. We now decided on pursuing this river to its junction with the fork of Maria’s river, which we had ascended, and then cross the country obliquely to Tansy river, and descend that stream to its confluence with Maria’s river. We, therefore, crossed and descended the river, and at one mile below the junction, halted to let the horses graze in a fertile bottom, in which were some Indian lodges, that appear to have been inhabited during the last winter. We here discern more timber than the country in general possesses; for besides an undergrowth of rose, honeysuckle, and redberry bushes, and a small quantity of willow timber, the three species of cottonwood, the narrow-leafed, the broad-leafed, and the species known to the Columbia, though here seen for the first time on the Missouri, are all united at this place. Game too, appears in greater abundance. We saw a few antelopes and wolves, and killed a buck, besides which we saw also two of the small burrowing foxes of the plains, about the size of the common domestic cat, and of a reddish brown colour, except the tail, which is black.

At the distance of three miles, we ascended the hills close to the river side, while Drewyer pursued the valley of the river on the opposite side. But scarcely had captain Lewis reached the high plain, when he saw about a mile on his left, a collection of about thirty horses. He immediately halted, and by the aid of his spy-glass discovered that one half of the horses were saddled, and that on the eminence above the horses, several Indians were looking down toward the river, probably at Drewyer. This was a most unwelcome sight. Their probable numbers rendered any contest with them of doubtful issue; to attempt to escape would only invite pursuit, and our horses were so bad that we must certainly be overtaken; besides which, Drewyer could not yet be aware that the Indians were near, and if we ran he would most probably be sacrificed. We therefore determined to make the best of our situation, and advance towards them in a friendly manner. The flag which we had brought in case of any such accident was therefore displayed, and we continued slowly our march towards them. Their whole attention was so engaged by Drewyer, that they did not immediately discover us. As soon as they did see us, they appeared to be much alarmed and ran about in confusion, and some of them came down the hill and drove their horse within gunshot of the eminence, to which they then returned, as if to wait our arrival. When we came within a quarter of a mile, one of the Indians mounted and rode at full speed to receive us; but when within a hundred paces of us, he halted, and captain Lewis who had alighted to receive him, held out his hand, and beckoned to him to approach, he only looked at us for some time, and then, without saying a word, returned to his companions with as much haste as he had advanced. The whole party now descended the hill and rode towards us. As yet we saw only eight, but presumed that there must be more behind us, as there were several horses saddled. We however advanced, and captain Lewis now told his two men that he believed these were the Minnetarees of Fort de Prairie, who, from their infamous character, would in all probability attempt to rob them; but being determined to die, rather than lose his papers and instruments, he intended to resist to the last extremity, and advised them to do the same, and to be on the alert should there be any disposition to attack us. When the two parties came within a hundred yards of each other, all the Indians, except one, halted; captain Lewis therefore ordered his two men to halt while he advanced, and after shaking hands with the Indian, went on and did the same with the others in the rear, while the Indian himself shook hands with the two men. They all now came up, and after alighting, the Indians asked to smoke with us. Captain Lewis, who was very anxious for Drewyer’s safety, told them that the man who had gone down the river had the pipe, and requested that as they had seen him, one of them would accompany R. Fields to bring him back. To this they assented, and R. Fields went with a young man in search of Drewyer. Captain Lewis now asked them by signs if they were the Minnetarees of the north, and was sorry to learn by their answer that his suspicion was too true. He then inquired if there was any chief among them. They pointed out three; but though he did not believe them, yet it was thought best to please them, and he therefore gave to one a flag, to another a medal, and to a third a handkerchief. They appeared to be well satisfied with these presents, and now recovered from the agitation into which our first interview had thrown them, for they were really more alarmed than ourselves at the meeting. In our turn, however, we became equally satisfied on finding that they were not joined by any more of their companions, for we consider ourselves quite a match for eight Indians, particularly as those have but two guns, the rest being armed with only eye-dogs and bows and arrows. As it was growing late captain Lewis proposed that they should encamp together near the river; for he was glad to see them and had a great deal to say to them. They assented; and being soon joined by Drewyer, we proceeded towards the river, and after descending a very steep bluff, two hundred and fifty feet high, encamped in a small bottom. Here the Indians formed a large semicircular tent of dressed buffaloe skins, in which the two parties assembled, and by the means of Drewyer, the evening was spent in conversation with the Indians. They informed us that they were a part of a large band which at present lay encamped on the main branch of Maria’s river, near the foot of the Rocky mountains, and at the distance of a day and a half’s journey from this place. Another large band were hunting buffaloe near the Broken mountains, from which they would proceed in a few days to the north of Maria’s river. With the first of these there was a white man. They added, that from this place to the establishment on the Saskashawan, at which they trade, is only six days’ easy march; that is, such a day’s journey as can be made with their women and children, so that we computed the distance at one hundred and fifty miles. There they carry the skins of wolves and some beavers, and exchange them for guns, ammunition, blankets, spirituous liquors, and the other articles of Indian traffic. Captain Lewis in turn informed them that he had come from a great distance up the large river which runs towards the rising sun; that he had been as far as the great lake where the sun sets; that he had seen many nations, the greater part of whom were at war with each other, but by his mediation were restored to peace; and all had been invited to come and trade with him west of the mountains: he was now on his way home, but had left his companions at the falls, and come in search of the Minnetarees, in hopes of inducing them to live at peace with their neighbours, and to visit the trading houses which would be formed at the entrance of Maria’s river. They said that they were anxious of being at peace with the Tushepaws, but those people had lately killed a number of their relations, as they proved by showing several of the party who had their hair cut as a sign of mourning. They were equally willing, they added, to come down and trade with us. Captain Lewis therefore proposed that they should send some of their young men to invite all their band to meet us at the mouth of Maria’s river, and the rest of the party to go with us to that place, where he hoped to find his men, offering them ten horses and some tobacco in case they would accompany us. To this they made no reply. Finding them very fond of the pipe, captain Lewis, who was desirous of keeping a constant watch during the night, smoked with them until a late hour, and as soon as they were all asleep, he woke R. Fields, and ordering him to rouse us all in case any Indian left the camp, as they would probably attempt to steal our horses, he lay down by the side of Drewyer in the tent with all the Indians, while the Fields were stretched near the fire at the mouth of it. At sunrise,

Sunday 27, the Indians got up and crowded round the fire near which J. Fields, who was then on watch, had carelessly left his rifle, near the head of his brother, who was still asleep. One of the Indians slipped behind him, and unperceived, took his brother’s and his own rifle, while at the same time, two others seized those of Drewyer and captain Lewis. As soon as Fields turned round, he saw the Indian running off with the rifles, and instantly calling his brother, they pursued him for fifty or sixty yards, and just as they overtook him, in the scuffle for the rifles, R. Fields stabbed him through the heart with his knife; the Indian ran about fifteen steps and fell dead. They now ran back with their rifles to the camp. The moment the fellow touched his gun, Drewyer, who was awake, jumped up and wrested her from him. The noise awoke captain Lewis, who instantly started from the ground and reached to seize his gun, but finding her gone, drew a pistol from his belt and turning about saw the Indian running off with her. He followed him and ordered him to lay her down, which he was doing just as the Fields came up, and were taking aim to shoot him, when captain Lewis ordered them not to fire, as the Indian did not appear to intend any mischief. He dropped the gun and was going slowly off as Drewyer came out and asked permission to kill him, but this captain Lewis forbid as he had not yet attempted to shoot us. But finding that the Indians were now endeavouring to drive off all the horses, he ordered three of them to follow the main party who were chasing the horses up the river, and fire instantly upon the thieves; while he, without taking time to run for his shot-pouch, pursued the fellow who had stolen his gun and another Indian, who were driving away the horses on the left of the camp. He pressed them so closely that they left twelve of their horses, but continued to drive off one of our own. At the distance of three hundred paces they entered a steep niche in the river bluffs, when captain Lewis, being too much out of breath to pursue them any further, called out, as he did several times before, that unless they gave up the horse he would shoot them. As he raised his gun one of the Indians jumped behind a rock and spoke to the other, who stopped at the distance of thirty paces, as captain Lewis shot him in the belly. He fell on his knees and right elbow, but raising himself a little, fired, and then crawled behind a rock. The shot had nearly been fatal, for captain Lewis, who was bare-headed, felt the wind of the ball very distinctly. Not having his shot-pouch, he could not reload his rifle, and having only a single load also for his pistol, he thought it most prudent not to attack the Indians, and therefore retired slowly to the camp. He was met by Drewyer, who hearing the report of the guns, had come to his assistance, leaving the Fields to pursue the Indians. Captain Lewis ordered him to call out to them to desist from the pursuit, as we could take the horses of the Indians in place of our own, but they were at too great a distance to hear him. He therefore returned to the camp, and whilst he was saddling the horses, the Fields returned with four of our own, having followed the Indians until two of them swam the river, two others ascended the hills, so that the horses became dispersed. We, however, were rather gainers by this contest, for we took four of the Indian horses, and lost only one of our own. Besides which, we found in the camp four shields, two bows with quivers, and one of the guns which we took with us, and also the flag which we had presented to them, but left the medal round the neck of the dead man, in order that they might be informed who we were. The rest of their luggage, except some buffaloe meat, we left; and as there was no time to be lost, we mounted our horses, and after ascending the river hills, took our course through the beautiful level plains, in a direction a little to the south of east. We had no doubt but that we should be immediately pursued by a much larger party, and that as soon as intelligence was given to the band near the Broken mountains, they would hasten to the mouth of Maria’s river to intercept us. We hope, however, to be there before them, so as to form a junction with our friends. We therefore pushed our horses as fast as we possibly could; and fortunately for us, the Indian horses were very good, the plains perfectly level, and without many stones or prickly pears, and in fine order for travelling after the late rains. At eight miles from our camp we passed a stream forty yards wide, to which, from the occurrence of the morning, we gave the name of Battle river. At three o’clock we reached Rose river, five miles above where we had formerly passed it, and having now came by estimate sixty-three miles, halted for an hour and a half to refresh our horses; then pursued our journey seventeen miles further, when, as the night came on, we killed a buffaloe, and again stopped for two hours. The sky was now overclouded, but as the moon gave light enough to show us the route, we continued along through immense herds of buffaloe for twenty miles, and then almost exhausted with fatigue, halted at two in the morning,

Monday, 28, to rest ourselves and the horses. At daylight we awoke sore and scarcely able to stand; but as our own lives as well as those of our companions depended on our pressing forward, we mounted our horses and set out. The men were desirous of crossing the Missouri, at the Grog spring, where Rose river approaches so near the river, and passing down the southwest side of it, and thus avoid the country at the junction of the two rivers, through which the enemy would most probably pursue us. But as this circuitous route would consume the whole day, and the Indians might in the meantime attack the canoes at the point, captain Lewis told his party it was now their duty to risk their lives for their friends and companions; that he would proceed immediately to the point, to give the alarm to the canoes, and if they had not yet arrived, he would raft the Missouri, and after hiding the baggage, ascend the river on foot through the woods till he met them. He told them also that it was his determination, in case they were attacked in crossing the plains, to tie the bridles of the horses and stand together till they had either routed their enemies, or sold their lives as dearly as possible. To this they all assented, and we therefore continued our route to the eastward, till at the distance of twelve miles we came near the Missouri, when we heard a noise which seemed like the report of a gun. We therefore quickened our pace for eight miles further, and about five miles from the Grog spring, now heard distinctly the noise of several rifles, from the river. We hurried to the bank, and saw with exquisite satisfaction our friends coming down the river. They landed to greet us, and after turning our horses loose, we embarked with our baggage, and went down to the spot where we had made a deposit. This, after reconnoitering the adjacent country, we opened; but unfortunately the cache had caved in, and most of the articles were injured. We took whatever was still worth preserving, and immediately proceeded to the point, where we found our deposits in good order. By a singular good fortune we were here joined by serjeant Gass and Willard from the falls, who had been ordered to bring the horses here to assist in collecting meat for the voyage, as it had been calculated that the canoes would reach this place much sooner than captain Lewis’s party. After a very heavy shower of rain and hail, attended with violent thunder and lightning, we left the point, and giving a final discharge to our horses, went over to the island where we had left our red periogue, which however we found so much decayed that we had no means of repairing her: we, therefore, took all the iron work out of her, and proceeded down the river fifteen miles, and encamped near some cottonwood trees, one of which was of the narrow-leafed species, and the first of that species we had remarked as we ascended the river.

Serjeant Ordway’s party, which had left the mouth of Madison river on the 13th, had descended in safety to the Whitebear islands, where he arrived on the 19th, and after collecting the baggage, left the falls on the 27th in the white periogue, and five canoes, while serjeant Gass and Willard set out at the same time by land with the horses, and thus fortunately met together.

Tuesday, 29. A violent storm of rain and hail came on last night, and as we had no means of making a shelter, we lay in the rain, and during the whole day continued so exposed. The two small canoes were sent ahead in order to hunt elk and buffaloe, which are in immense quantities, so as to provide shelter as well as food for the party. We then proceeded very rapidly with the aid of a strong current, and after passing at one o’clock the Natural walls, encamped late in the evening at our former encampment of the 29th of May, 1806. The river is now as high as it has been during the present season, and every little rivulet discharges torrents of water, which bring down such quantities of mud and sand, that we can scarcely drink the water of the Missouri. The buffaloe continue to be very numerous, but the elk are few. The bighorns, however, are in great numbers along the steep cliffs of the river, and being now in fine order, their flesh is extremely tender, delicate, and well flavoured, and resembles in colour and flavour our mutton, though it is not so strong. The brown curlew has disappeared, and has probably gone to some other climate after rearing its young in these plains.

Wednesday, 30. The rain still prevented us from stopping to dry our baggage, and we therefore proceeded with a strong current, which joined to our oars, enabled us to advance at the rate of seven miles an hour. We went on shore several times for the purpose of hunting, and procured several bighorns, two buffaloe, a beaver, an elk, and a female brown bear, whose talons were six and a quarter inches in length. In the evening we encamped on an island two miles above Goodrich’s island, and early in the morning,

Thursday, 31, continued our route in the rain, passing, during the greater part of the day, through high pine hills, succeeded by low grounds abounding in timber and game. The buffaloe are scarce; but we procured fifteen elk, fourteen deer, two bighorns, and a beaver. The elk are in fine order, particularly the males, who now herd together in small parties. Their horns have reached their full growth, but ill retain the velvet or skin which covers them. Through the bottoms are scattered a number of lodges, some of which seem to have been built last winter, and were probably occupied by the Minnetarees of Fort de Prairie. The river is still rising, and more muddy than we have ever seen it. Late last night we took shelter from the rain in some old Indian lodges, about eight miles below the entrance of North-mountain creek, and then set out,

Friday, August 1, at an early hour. We passed the Muscleshell river at eleven o’clock, and fifteen miles further landed at some Indian lodges, where we determined to pass the night, for the rain still continued, and we feared that the skins of the bighorn would spoil by being constantly wet. Having made fires, therefore, and exposed them to dry, we proceeded to hunt. The next day,

Saturday, 2, was fair and warm, and we availed ourselves of this occasion to dry all our baggage in the sun. Such is the immediate effect of fair weather, that since last evening the river has fallen eighteen inches. Two men were sent forward in a canoe to hunt; and now, having reloaded our canoes, we resolved to go on as fast as possible, and accordingly set out,

Sunday, 3, at an early hour, and without stopping as usual to cook a dinner, encamped in the evening two miles above our camp of May 12, 1805. We were here joined by the two hunters, who had killed twenty-nine deer since they left us. These animals are in great abundance in the river bottoms, and very gentle. We passed also a great number of elk, wolves, some bear, beaver, geese, a few ducks, the party-coloured corvus, a calumet eagle, some bald eagles, and red-headed woodpeckers, but very few buffaloe. By four o’clock next morning,

Monday, 4, we were again in motion. At eleven we passed the Bigdry river, which has now a bold, even, but shallow current, sixty yards in width, and halted for a few minutes at the mouth of Milk river. This stream is at present full of water, resembling in colour that of the Missouri, and as it possesses quite as much water as Maria’s river, we have no doubt that it extends to a considerable distance towards the north. We here killed a very large rattlesnake. Soon after we passed several herds of buffaloe and elk, and encamped at night, two miles below the gulf, on the northeast side of the river. For the first time this season we were saluted with the cry of the whippoorwill, or goatsucker of the Missouri.

Tuesday, 5. We waited until noon in hopes of being overtaken by two of the men, who had gone ahead in a canoe to hunt two days ago, but who were at a distance from the river, as we passed them. As they did not arrive by that time, we concluded that they had passed us in the night, and therefore proceeded until late, when we encamped about ten miles below Littledry river. We again saw great numbers of buffaloe, elk, deer, antelope, and wolves; also eagles, and other birds, among which were geese and a solitary pelican, neither of whom can fly at present, as they are now shedding the feathers of their wings. We also saw several bear, one of them the largest, except one, we had ever seen, for he measured nine feet from the nose to the extremity of the tail.

During the night a violent storm came on from the northeast with such torrents of rain that we had scarcely time to unload the canoes before they filled with water. Having no shelter, we ourselves were completely wet to the skin, and the wind and cold air made our situation very unpleasant. We left it early,

Wednesday, 6; but after we had passed Porcupine river, were, by the high wind, obliged to lie by until four o’clock, when the wind abating we continued, and at night encamped five miles below our camp of the 1st of May, 1805. Here we were again drenched by the rain, which lasted all the next morning,

Thursday, 7; but being resolved, if possible, to reach the Yellowstone, a distance of eighty-three miles, in the course of the day, we set out early, and being favoured by the rapid current and good oarsmen, proceeded with great speed. In passing Martha’s river, we observed that its mouth is at present a quarter of a mile lower than it was last year. Here we find for the first time the appearance of coal-burnt hills and pumicestone, which seem always to accompany each other. At this place also are the first elms and dwarf cedars in the bluffs of the river. The ash first makes its appearance in one solitary tree at the Ash rapid, but is seen occasionally scattered through the low grounds at the Elk rapid, and thence downwards, though it is generally small. The whole country on the northeast side, between Martha and Milk rivers, is a beautiful level plain, with a soil much more fertile than that higher up the river. The buffaloe, elk, and other animals still continue numerous; as are also the bear, who lie in wait at the crossing places, where they seize elk and the weaker cattle, and then stay by the carcase in order to keep off the wolves, till the whole is devoured. At four o’clock we reached the mouth of Yellowstone, where we found a note from captain Clarke, informing us of his intention of waiting for us a few miles below. We therefore left a memorandum for our two huntsmen, whom we now supposed must be behind us, and then pursued our course till night came on, and not being able to overtake captain Clarke, we encamped. In the morning,

Friday, 8, we set out in hopes of overtaking captain Clarke; but after descending to nearly the entrance of White-earth river without being able to see him, we were at a loss what to conjecture. In this situation we landed, and began to caulk and repair the canoes, as well as prepare some skins for clothing, for since we left the Rocky mountains we have had no leisure to make clothes, so that the greater part of the men are almost naked. In these occupations we passed this and the following day, without any interruption except from the musquetoes, which are very troublesome, and then having completed the repairs of the canoes, we embarked,

Sunday, 10, at five in the afternoon; but the wind and rain prevented us going further than near the entrance of White-earth river. The next day,

Monday 11, being anxious to reach the Burnt hills by noon, in order to ascertain the latitude, we went forward with great rapidity; but by the time we reached that place, it was twenty minutes too late to take the meridian altitude. Having lost the observation, captain Lewis observed on the opposite side of the river, a herd of elk on a thick sandbar of willows, and landed with Cruzatte to hunt them. Each of them fired and shot an elk. They then reloaded and took different routes in pursuit of the game, when just as captain Lewis was taking aim at an elk, a ball struck him in the left thigh, about an inch below the joint of the hip, and missing the bone, went through the left thigh and grazed the right to the depth of the ball. It instantly occurred to him that Cruzatte must have shot him by mistake for an elk, as he was dressed in brown leather, and Cruzatte had not a very good eye-sight. He therefore called out that he was shot, and looked towards the place from which the ball came; but seeing nothing, he called on Cruzatte by name several times, but received no answer. He now thought that as Cruzatte was out of hearing, and the shot did not seem to come from more than forty paces distance, it must have been fired by an Indian; and not knowing how many might be concealed in the bushes, he made towards the periogue, calling out to Cruzatte to retreat as there were Indians in the willows. As soon as he reached the periogue, he ordered the men to arms, and mentioning that he was wounded, though he hoped not mortally by the Indians, bade them follow him to relieve Cruzatte. They instantly followed for an hundred paces, when his wound became so painful, and his thigh stiffened in such a manner, that he could go no further. He therefore ordered the men to proceed, and if overpowered by numbers, retreat towards the boats, keeping up a fire; then limping back to the periogue, he prepared himself with his rifle, a pistol, and the air-gun, to sell his life dearly in case the men should be overcome. In this state of anxiety and suspence he remained for about twenty minutes, when the party returned with Cruzatte, and reported that no Indians could be seen in the neighbourhood. Cruzatte was now much alarmed, and declared that he had shot an elk after captain Lewis left him, but disclaimed every idea of having intentionally wounded his officer. There was no doubt but that he was the person who gave the wound, yet as it seemed to be perfectly accidental, and Cruzatte had always conducted himself with propriety, no further notice was taken of it. The wound was now dressed, and patent lint put into the holes; but though it bled considerably, yet as the ball had touched neither a bone nor an artery, we hope that it may not prove fatal. As it was, however, impossible for him to make the observation of the latitude of the Burnt hills, which is chiefly desirable, as being the most northern parts of the Missouri, he declined remaining till to-morrow, and proceeded on till evening. Captain Lewis could not now be removed without great pain, as he had a high fever. He therefore remained on board during the night, and early the next morning,

Tuesday, 12, proceeded with as much expedition as possible, and soon afterwards we put ashore to visit a camp, which we found to be that of Dickson and Hancock, the two Illinois traders, who told us that they had seen captain Clarke yesterday. As we stopped with them, we were overtaken by our two hunters, Colter and Collins, who had been missing since the third, and whose absence excited much uneasiness. They informed us, that after following us the first day, they concluded that we must be behind, and waited for us during several days, when they were convinced of their mistake, and had then come on as rapidly as they could. We made some presents to the two traders, and then proceeded till at one o’clock we joined our friends and companions under captain Clarke.

CHAPTER XVI.

Thursday, July 3, 1806. On taking leave of captain Lewis and the Indians, the other division, consisting of captain Clarke with fifteen men and fifty horses, set out through the valley of Clarke’s river, along the western side of which they rode in a southern direction. The valley is from ten to fifteen miles in width, tolerably level, and partially covered with the long-leafed and the pitch pine, with some cottonwood, birch, and sweet willow on the borders of the streams. Among the herbage are two species of clover, one the white clover common to the western parts of the United States, the other much smaller both in its leaf and blossom than either the red or white clover, and particularly relished by the horses. After crossing eight different streams of water, four of which were small, we halted at the distance of eighteen miles on the upper side of a large creek, where we let our horses graze, and after dinner resumed our journey in the same direction we had pursued during the morning, till at the distance of eighteen miles further, we encamped on the north side of a large creek. The valley became more beautiful as we proceeded, and was diversified by a number of small open plains, abounding with grass, and a variety of sweet-scented plants, and watered by ten streams which rush from the western mountains with considerable velocity. The mountains themselves are covered with snow about one fifth from the top, and some snow is still to be seen on the high points and in the hollows of the mountains to the eastward. In the course of our ride we saw a great number of deer, a single bear, and some of the burrowing squirrels common about the Quamash flats. The musquetoes too were very troublesome.

Friday, July 4. Early in the morning three hunters were sent out, and the rest of the party having collected the horses and breakfasted, we proceeded at seven o’clock up the valley, which is now contracted to the width of from eight to ten miles, with a good proportion of pitch pine, though its low lands, as well as the bottoms of the creeks, are strewed with large stones. We crossed five creeks of different sizes, but of great depth, and so rapid, that in passing the last, several of the horses were driven down the stream, and some of our baggage wet. Near this river we saw the tracks of two Indians, whom we supposed to be Shoshonees. Having made sixteen miles, we halted at an early hour for the purpose of doing honour to the birth-day of our country’s independence. The festival was not very splendid, for it consisted of a mush made of cows and a saddle of venison, nor had we any thing to tempt us to prolong it. We therefore went on till at the distance of a mile we came to a very large creek, which, like all those in the valley, had an immense rapidity of descent; and we therefore proceeded up for some distance, in order to select the most convenient spot for fording. Even there, however, such was the violence of the current, that although the water was not higher than the bellies of the horses, the resistance they made in passing caused the stream to rise over their backs and loads. After passing the creek we inclined to the left, and soon after struck the road which we had descended last year, near the spot where we dined on the 7th of September. Along this road we continued on the west side of Clarke’s river, till at the distance of thirteen miles, during which we passed three more deep large creeks, we reached its western branch, where we encamped, and having sent out two hunters, despatched some men to examine the best ford across the river. The game of to-day consisted of four deer; though we also saw a herd of ibex, or bighorn. By daylight the next morning,

Saturday, July 5, we again examined the fords, and having discovered what we conceived to be the best, begun the passage at a place where the river is divided by small islands into six different channels. We, however, crossed them all without any damage, except wetting some of our provisions and merchandise; and at the distance of a mile came to the eastern branch, up which we proceeded about a mile, till we came into the old road we had descended in the autumn. It soon led us across the river, which we found had fallen to the same depth at which we found it last autumn, and along its eastern bank to the foot of the mountain nearly opposite Flower creek. Here we halted to let our horses graze, near a spot where there was still a fire burning and the tracks of two horses, which we presumed to be Shoshonees; and having dried all our provisions, proceeded at about four o’clock, across the mountain into the valley where we had first seen the Flatheads. We then crossed the river, which we now perceived took its rise from a high peaked mountain at about twenty miles to the northeast of the valley, and then passed up it for two miles, and encamped after a ride of twenty miles during the day. As soon as we halted several men were despatched in different directions to examine the road, and from their report, concluded that the best path would be one about three miles up the creek. This is the road travelled by the Ootlashoots, and will certainly shorten our route two days at least, besides being much better, as we had been informed by the Indians, than by that we came last fall.

Sunday, 6. The night was very cold, succeeded by frost in the morning; and as the horses were much scattered, we were not able to set out before nine o’clock. We then went along the creek for three miles, and leaving to the right the path by which we came last fall, pursued the road taken by the Ootlashoots, up a gentle ascent to the dividing mountain which separates the waters of the middle fork of Clarke’s river, from those of Wisdom and Lewis’s rivers. On reaching the other side, we came to Glade creek, down which we proceeded, crossing it frequently into the glades on each side, where the timber is small, and in many places destroyed by fire; where are great quantities of quamash now in bloom. Throughout the glades are great numbers of holes made by the whistling or burrowing squirrel; and we killed a hare of the large mountain species. Along these roads there are also appearances of old buffaloe paths, and some old heads of buffaloes; and as these animals have wonderful sagacity in the choice of their routes, the coincidence of a buffaloe with an Indian road, was the strongest assurance that it was the best. In the afternoon we passed along the hill-side, north of the creek, till, in the course of six miles, we entered an extensive level plain. Here the tracks of the Indians scattered so much that we could no longer pursue it, but Sacajaweah recognised the plain immediately. She had travelled it often during her childhood, and informed us that it was the great resort of the Shoshonees, who came for the purpose of gathering quamash and cows, and of taking beaver, with which the plain abounded, and that Glade creek was a branch of Wisdom river, and that on reaching the higher part of the plain, we should see a gap in the mountains, on the course to our canoes, and from that gap a high point of mountain covered with snow. At the distance of a mile we crossed a large creek from the right, rising, as well as Fish creek, in a snowy mountain, over which there is a gap. Soon after, on ascending a rising ground, the country spreads itself into a beautiful plain, extending north and south about fifteen miles wide and thirty in length, and surrounded on all sides by high points of mountains covered with snow, among which was the gap pointed out by the squaw, bearing S. 56° E. We had not gone two miles from the last creek when we were overtaken by a violent storm of wind, accompanied with hard rain, which lasted an hour and a half. Having no shelter, we formed a solid column to protect ourselves from the gust, and then went on five miles to a small creek, where finding some small timber, we encamped for the night, and dried ourselves. We here observed some fresh signs of Indians, who had been gathering quamash. Our distance was twenty-six miles. In the morning,

Monday, 7, our horses were so much scattered, that although we sent out hunters in every direction, to range the country for six or eight miles, nine of them could not be recovered. They were the most valuable of all our horses, and so much attached to some of their companions, that it was difficult to separate them in the daytime. We therefore presumed that they must have been stolen by some roving Indians, and accordingly left a party of five men to continue the pursuit, while the rest went on to the spot where the canoes had been deposited. Accordingly we set out at ten o’clock, and pursued a course S. 56° E. across the valley, which we found to be watered by four large creeks, with extensive low and miry bottoms; and then reached Wisdom river, along the northeast side of which we continued, till at the distance of sixteen miles we came to the three branches. Near that place we stopped for dinner at a hot spring situated in the open plain. The bed of the spring is about fifteen yards in circumference, and composed of loose, hard, gritty stones, through which the water boils in great quantities. It is slightly impregnated with sulphur, and so hot that a piece of meat about the size of three fingers, was completely done in twenty-five minutes. After dinner we proceeded across the eastern branch, and along the north side of the middle branch for nine miles, when we reached the gap in the mountains, and took our last leave of this extensive valley, which we called the Hotspring valley. It is indeed a beautiful country; though enclosed by mountains covered with snow, the soil is exceedingly fertile and well supplied with esculent plants; while its numerous creeks furnish immense quantities of beaver. Another valley less extensive and more rugged opened itself to our view as we passed through the gap; but as we had made twenty-five miles, and the night was advancing, we halted near some handsome springs, which fall into Willard’s creek. After a cold night, during which our horses separated and could not be collected till eight o’clock in the morning.

Tuesday 8, we crossed the valley along the southwest side of Willard’s creek for twelve miles, when it entered the mountains, and then turning S. 20° E. came to the Shoshonee cove, after riding seven miles; whence we proceeded down the west branch of Jefferson river, and at the distance of nine miles, reached its forks, where we had deposited our merchandise in the month of August. Most of the men were in the habit of chewing tobacco; and such was their eagerness to procure it after so long a privation, that they scarcely took the saddles from their horses before they ran to the cave, and were delighted at being able to resume this fascinating indulgence. This was one of the severest privations which we have encountered. Some of the men, whose tomahawks were so constructed as to answer the purposes of pipes, broke the handles of these instruments, and after cutting them into small fragments, chewed them; the wood having, by frequent smoking, become strongly impregnated with the taste of that plant. We found every thing safe, though some of the goods were a little damp, and one of the canoes had a hole. The ride of this day was twenty-seven miles in length, and through a country diversified by low marshy grounds, and high, open, and stony plains, terminated by high mountains, on the tops and along the northern sides of which the snow still remained. Over the whole were scattered great quantities of hysop and the different species of shrubs, common to the plains of the Missouri.

We had now crossed the whole distance from Travellers’-rest creek to the head of Jefferson’s river, which seems to form the best and shortest route over the mountains, during almost the whole distance of one hundred and sixty-four miles. It is, in fact, a very excellent road, and by cutting a few trees, might be rendered a good route for wagons, with the exception of about four miles over one of the mountains, which would require some levelling.

Wednesday, 9. We were all occupied in raising and repairing the canoes, and making the necessary preparations for resuming our journey to-morrow. The day proved cold and windy, so that the canoes were soon dried. We were here overtaken by serjeant Ordway and his party, who had discovered our horses near the head of the creek on which we encamped, and although they were very much scattered, and endeavoured to escape as fast as they could, he brought them back. The squaw found to-day a plant which grows in the moist lands, the root of which is eaten by the Indians. The stem and leaf, as well as the root of this plant, resemble the common carrot, in form, size and taste, though the colour is of somewhat a paler yellow. The night continued very cold, and in the morning,

Thursday 10, a white frost covered the ground; the grass was frozen, and the ice three quarters of an inch thick in a basin of water. The boats were now loaded, and captain Clarke divided his men into two bands, one to descend the river with the baggage, while he, with the other, proceeded on horseback to the Rochejaune. After breakfast the two parties set out, those on shore skirting the eastern side of Jefferson river, through Service valley, and over the Rattlesnake mountain, into a beautiful and extensive country, known among the Indians by the name of Hahnahappapchah, or Beaverhead valley, from the number of those animals to be found in it, and also from a point of land resembling the head of a beaver. It extends from the Rattlesnake mountain as low as Frazier’s creek, and is about fifty miles in length, in a direct line, while its width varies from ten to fifteen miles, being watered in its whole course by the Jefferson and six different creeks. The valley is open and fertile, and besides the innumerable quantities of beaver and otter, with which its creeks are supplied, the bushes of the low grounds are a favorite resort for deer, while on the higher parts of the valley are seen scattered groups of antelopes, and still further, on the steep sides of the mountains, we observed many of the bighorn, which take refuge there from the wolves and bears. At the distance of fifteen miles the two parties stopped to dine, when captain Clarke finding that the river became wider and deeper, and that the canoes could advance more rapidly than the horses, determined to go himself by water, leaving serjeant Pryor with six men, to bring on the horses. In this way they resumed their journey after dinner, and encamped on the eastern side of the river, opposite the head of the Three-thousand mile island. The beaver were basking in great numbers along the shore; they saw also some young wild geese and ducks. The musquetoes were very troublesome during the day, but after sunset the weather became cool and they disappeared. The next morning,

Friday, 11, captain Clarke sent four men ahead to hunt, and after an early breakfast proceeded down a very narrow channel, which was rendered more difficult by a high southwest wind, which blew from the high snowy mountains in that quarter, and met them in the face at every bend of the river, which was now become very crooked. At noon they passed the high point of land on the left, to which Beaverhead valley owes its name, and at six o’clock reached Philanthropy river, which was at present very low. The wind now shifted to the northeast, and though high, was much warmer than before. At seven o’clock they reached their encampment at the entrance of Wisdom river on the sixth of August. They found the river very high, but falling. Here too, they overtook the hunters, who had killed a buck and some young geese. Besides these they had seen a great number of geese and sandhill cranes, and some deer. The beaver too were in great quantities along the banks of the rivers, and through the night were flapping their tails in the water round the boats. Having found the canoe which had been left here as they ascended, they employed themselves,

Saturday, 12, till eight o’clock in drawing out the nails and making paddles of the sides of it. Then leaving one of their canoes here, they set out after breakfast. Immediately below the forks the current became stronger than above, and the course of the river straighter, as far as Panther creek, after which it became much more crooked. A high wind now arose from the snowy mountains to the northwest, so that it was with much difficulty and some danger they reached, at three o’clock, the entrance of Field’s creek. After dining at that place, they pursued their course and stopped for the night below their encampment of the 31st of July last. Beaver, young geese, and deer continued to be their game, and they saw some old signs of buffaloe. The musquetoes also were still very troublesome.

Sunday, 13. Early in the morning they set out, and at noon reached the entrance of Madison river, where serjeant Pryor had arrived with the horses about an hour before. The horses were then driven across Madison and Gallatin rivers, and the whole party halted to dine and unload the canoes below the mouth of the latter. Here the two parties separated; serjeant Ordway with nine men set out in six canoes to descend the river, while captain Clarke with the remaining ten, and the wife and child of Chaboneau, were to proceed by land, with fifty horses, to Yellowstone river. They set out at five in the afternoon from the forks of the Missouri, in a direction nearly eastward; but as many of the horses had sore feet, they were obliged to move slowly, and after going four miles, halted for the night on the bank of Gallatin’s river. This is a beautiful stream, and though the current is rapid and obstructed by islands near its mouth, is navigable for canoes. On its lower side the land rises gradually to the foot of a mountain, running almost parallel to it; but the country below it and Madison’s river is a level plain, covered at present with low grass, the soil being poor, and injured by stones and strata of hard white rock along the hill sides. Throughout the whole, game was very abundant. They procured deer in the low grounds; beaver and otter were seen in Gallatin’s river, and elk, wolves, eagles, hawks, crows, and geese, were seen at different parts of the route. The plain was intersected by several great roads, leading to a gap in the mountain, about twenty miles distant, in a direction E.N.E. but the Indian woman, who was acquainted with the country, recommended a gap more to the southward. This course captain Clarke determined to pursue; and therefore at an early hour in the morning.

Monday, 14, crossed Gallatin’s river in a direction south 78° east, and passing over a level plain, reached the Jefferson at the distance of six miles. That river is here divided into many channels, which spread themselves for several miles through the low grounds, and are dammed up by the beaver in such a manner, that after attempting in rain to reach the opposite side, they were obliged to turn short about to the right, till with some difficulty they reached a low but firm island, extending nearly in the course they desired to follow. The squaw now assured captain Clarke that the large road from Medicine river to the gap we were seeking, crossed the upper part of the plain. He therefore proceeded four miles up the plain and reached the main channel of the river, which is still navigable for canoes, though much divided and dammed up by multitudes of beaver. Having forded the river, they passed through a little skirt of cottonwood timber to a low open plain, where they dined. They saw elk, deer, and antelopes, and in every direction the roads made by the buffaloe, as well as some old signs of them. The squaw informed them, that but a few years ago these animals were numerous, not only here but even to the sources of Jefferson’s river; but of late they have disappeared, for the Shoshonees being fearful of going west of the mountains, have hunted this country with more activity, and of course driven the buffaloe from their usual haunts. After dinner they continued inclining to the south of east, through an open level plain, till at the distance of twelve miles they reached the three forks of Gallatin’s river. On crossing the southerly branch, they fell into the buffaloe road, described by the squaw, which led them up the middle branch for two miles; this branch is provided with immense quantities of beaver, but is sufficiently navigable for small canoes, by unlading at the worst dams. After crossing, they went on a mile further, and encamped at the beginning of the gap in the mountain, which here forms a kind of semicircle, through which the three branches of the river pass. Several roads come in from the right and left, all tending to the gap. A little snow still remains on a naked mountain to the eastward, but in every other direction the mountains are covered with great quantities.

Tuesday, 15. After an early breakfast they pursued the buffaloe road over a low gap in the mountain to the heads of the eastern fork of Gallatin’s river, near which they had encamped last evening, and at the distance of six miles reached the top of the dividing ridge, which separates the waters of the Missouri and the Yellowstone; and on descending the ridge, they struck one of the streams of the latter river. They followed its course through an open country, with high mountains on each side, partially covered with pine, and watered by several streams, crowded as usual with beaver dams. Nine miles from the top of the ridge they reached the Yellowstone itself, about a mile and a half below where it issues from the Rocky mountains. It now appeared that the communication between the two rivers was short and easy. From the head of the Missouri at its three forks to this place is a distance of forty-eight miles, the greater part of which is through a level plain; indeed, from the forks of the eastern branch of Gallatin’s river, which is there navigable for small canoes, to this part of the Yellowstone, the distance is no more than eighteen miles, with an excellent road over a high, dry country, with hills of inconsiderable height and no difficulty in passing. They halted three hours to rest their horses, and then pursued the buffaloe road along the bank of the river. Although just leaving a high snowy mountain, the Yellowstone is already a bold, rapid, and deep stream, one hundred and twenty yards in width. The bottoms of the river are narrow within the mountains, but widen to the extent of nearly two miles in the valley below, where they are occasionally overflowed, and the soil gives nourishment to cottonwood, rosebushes, honeysuckle, rushes, common coarse grass, a species of rye, and such productions of moist lands. On each side these low grounds are bounded by dry plains of coarse gravel and sand, stretching back to the foot of the mountains, and supplied with a very short grass. The mountains on the east side of the river are rough and rocky, and still retain great quantities of snow, and two other high snowy mountains may be distinguished, one bearing north fifteen or twenty miles, the other nearly east. They have no covering except a few scattered pine, nor indeed was any timber fit for even a small canoe to be seen. At the distance of nine miles from the mountain, a river discharges itself into the Yellowstone, from the northwest, under a high rocky cliff. It rises from the snowy mountains in that direction; is about thirty-five yards wide; has a bold, deep current; is skirted by some cottonwood and willow trees, and like the Yellowstone itself, seems to abound in beaver. They gave it the name of Shields’s river, after one of the party. Immediately below is a very good buffaloe road, which obviously leads from its head through a gap in the mountain, over to the waters of the Missouri. They passed Shields’s river, and at three miles further, after crossing a high rocky hill, encamped in a low bottom, near the entrance of a small creek. As they came through the mountains they had seen two black bear and a number of antelopes, as well as several herds of elk, of between two and three hundred in number, but they were able to kill only a single elk. The next morning,

Wednesday, 16, therefore, a hunter was despatched ahead, while the party collected the straggling horses. They then proceeded down the river, which is very straight, and has several islands covered with cottonwood and willow; but they could not procure a single tree large enough for a canoe, and being unwilling to trust altogether to skin canoes, captain Clarke preferred going on until they found some timber. The feet of the horses were now nearly worn to the quick, particularly the hind feet, so that they were obliged to make a sort of moccasin of green buffaloe skin, which relieved them very much in crossing the plains. After passing a bold creek from the south, of twenty yards in width, they halted for dinner on an island, then went on till at night they encamped near the entrance of another small stream, having made twenty-six miles during the day. They saw some bear and great numbers of antelopes and elks; but the soreness of their horses’ feet rendered it difficult to chase them. One of the men caught a fish which they had not seen before; it was eight inches long, and resembled a trout in form, but its mouth was like that of the sturgeon, and it had a red streak passing on each side from the gills to the tail. In the plains were but few plants except the silk-grass, the wild indigo, and the sunflower, which are now all in bloom. The high grounds on the river are faced with a deep freestone rock, of a hard, sharp grit, which may also be seen in perpendicular strata throughout the plain.

Thursday, 17. It rained during the night, and as the party had no covering but a buffaloe skin, they rose drenched with water; and pursuing their journey at an early hour, over the point of a ridge, and through an open low bottom, reached at the distance of six and a half miles, a part of the river, where two large creeks enter immediately opposite to each other; one from the northwest, the other from the south of southwest. These captain Clarke called Rivers-across. Ten miles and a half further they halted for dinner below the entrance of a large creek on the northeast side, about thirty yards in width, which they named Otter river. Nearly opposite to this is another, to which they gave the name of Beaver river. The waters of both are of a milky colour, and the banks well supplied with small timber. The river is now becoming more divided by islands, and a number of small creeks fall in on both sides. The largest of these is about seven miles from the Beaver river, and enters on the right: they called it Bratton’s river, from one of the men. The highlands too approach the river more nearly than before, but although their sides are partially supplied with pine and cedar, the growth is still too small for canoes. The buffaloe is beginning to be more abundant, and to-day, for the first time on this river, they saw a pelican; but deer and elk are now more scarce than before. In one of the low bottoms of the river was an Indian fort, which seems to have been built during the last summer. It was built in the form of a circle, about fifty feet in diameter, five feet high, and formed of logs, lapping over each other, and covered on the outside with bark set up on end. The entrance also was guarded by a work on each side of it, facing the river. These intrenchments, the squaw informs us, are frequently made by the Minnetarees and other Indians at war with the Shoshonees, when pursued by their enemies on horseback. After making thirty-three miles, they encamped near a point of woods in the narrow bottom of the river.

Friday, 18. Before setting out they killed two buffaloe, which ventured near the camp, and then pursued their route over the ridges of the highlands, so as to avoid the bends of the river, which now washes the feet of the hills. The face of the country is rough and stony, and covered with immense quantities of the prickly pear. The river is nearly two hundred yards wide, rapid as usual, and with a bed of coarse gravel and round stones. The same materials are the basis of the soil in the high bottoms, with a mixture of dark brown earth. The river hills are about two hundred feet high, and still faced with a dark freestone rock; and the country back of them broken into open waving plains. Pine is the only growth of importance; but among the smaller plants were distinguished the purple, yellow, and black currants, which are now ripe, and of an excellent flavour. About eleven o’clock a smoke was descried to the S.S.E. towards the termination of the Rocky mountains, intended most probably, as a signal by the Crow Indians, who have mistaken us for their enemies, or as friends to trade with them. They could not however stop to ascertain the truth of this conjecture, but rode on, and after passing another old Indian fort, similar to that seen yesterday, halted for the night on a small island, twenty-six miles from their camp of last evening. One of the hunters in attempting to mount his horse, after shooting a deer, fell on a small piece of timber, which ran nearly two inches into the muscular part of his thigh. The wound was very painful; and were it not for their great anxiety to reach the United States this season, the party would have remained till he was cured: but the time was too precious to wait. The gentlest and strongest horse was therefore selected, and a sort of litter formed in such a manner as to enable the sick man to lie nearly at full length. They then proceeded gently and at the distance of two miles passed a river entering from the southeast side, about forty yards wide, and called by the Indians Itchkeppearja, or Rose river, a name which it deserves, as well from its beauty as from the roses which we saw budding on its borders. Soon after they passed another Indian fort on an island, and after making nine miles, halted to let the horses graze, and sent out a hunter to look for timber to make a canoe, and procure, if possible, some wild ginger to make a poultice for Gibson’s thigh, which was now exceedingly painful, in consequence of his constrained position. He returned, however, without being able to find either; but brought back two bucks, and had had a contest with two white bears who had chased him; but being on horseback he escaped, after wounding both of them. There are great quantities of currants in the plains, but almost every blade of grass for many miles have been destroyed by immense swarms of grasshoppers, who appear to be ascending the river. After taking some refreshment they proceeded, and found that the hills became lower on both sides; those on the right overhanging the river in cliffs of a darkish yellow earth, and the bottoms widening to several miles in extent. The timber too, although chiefly cottonwood, is coming large.

They had not gone far when Gibson’s wound became so violently painful that he could no longer remain on horseback. He was therefore left with two men under the shade of a tree, while captain Clarke went on to seek for timber. At the distance of eighteen miles from his camp of last night he halted near a thick grove of trees, some of which were large enough for small canoes, and then searched all the adjacent country till evening, when Gibson was brought on to the camp. The game of to-day consisted of six deer, seven elk, and an antelope. The smoke which had been seen on the 17th, was again distinguished this afternoon, and one of the party reported that he had observed an Indian on the highlands on the opposite side of the river. The next morning at daylight,

Sunday, 20, two good judges of timber were sent down the river in quest of lumber, but returned without being able to find any trees larger than those near the camp, nor could they procure any for axe-handles except choke-cherry. Captain Clarke determined therefore to make two canoes, which being lashed together, might be sufficient to convey the party down the river, while a few men might lead the horses to the Mandan nation. Three axes were now sharpened with a file, and some of the men proceeded to cut down two of the largest trees, on which they worked till night. The rest of the party were occupied in dressing skins for clothes, or in hunting, in which they were so fortunate as to procure a deer, two buffaloe and an elk. The horses being much fatigued, they were turned out to rest for a few days; but in the morning,

Monday, 21, twenty-four of them were missing. Three hunters were sent in different directions to look for them; but all returned unsuccessful, and it now seemed probable that the Indians who had made the smoke a few days since, had stolen the horses. In the meantime the men worked so diligently on the canoes that one of them was nearly completed. Late in the evening, a very black cloud accompanied with thunder and lightning rose from the southeast, and rendered the weather extremely warm and disagreeable. The wind too was very high, but shifted towards morning,

Tuesday, 22, to the northeast, and became moderately cool. Three men were now despatched in quest of the horses, but they came back without being able to discover even a track, the plains being so hard and dry that the foot makes no impression. This confirms the suspicion of their being stolen by the Indians, who would probably take them across the plains, to avoid being pursued by their traces; besides, the improbability of their voluntarily leaving rushes and grass of the river bottoms to go on the plains, where they could find nothing but a short dry grass. Four men were again sent out with orders to encircle the camp for a great distance round, but they too returned with no better success than those who had preceded them. The search was resumed in the morning,

Wednesday, 23, and a piece of a robe, and a moccasin, were discovered not far from the camp. The moccasin was worn out in the sole, and yet wet, and had every appearance of having been left but a few hours before. This sign was conclusive that the Indians had taken our horses, and were still prowling about for the remainder, who fortunately escaped last night, by being in a small prairie, surrounded by thick timber. At length Labiche, who is one of the best trackers, returned from a very wide circuit, and informed captain Clarke that he had traced the tracks of the horses, which were bending their course rather down the river towards the open plains, and from the track, going very rapidly. All hopes of recovering them were now abandoned. The Indians are not the only plunderers who surround the camp, for last night the wolves or dogs stole the greater part of the dried meat from the scaffold. The wolves, which constantly attend the buffaloe, are here in great numbers, for this seems to be the commencement of the buffaloe country. Besides them, are seen antelopes, pidgeons, doves, hawks, ravens, crows, larks, sparrows, eagles, bank-martins, &c. &c. great numbers of geese too, which raise their young on this river, have passed the camp. The country itself consists of beautiful level plains, but the soil is thin and stony, and both plains and low grounds are covered with great quantities of prickly pear.

At noon the two canoes were finished. They are twenty-eight feet long, sixteen or eighteen inches deep, and from sixteen to twenty-four inches wide, and being lashed together, every thing was prepared for setting out to-morrow; Gibson having now recovered. Serjeant Pryor was now directed with Shannon and Windsor, to take our horses to the Mandans, and if he found that Mr. Henry was on the Assiniboin river, to go thither and deliver him a letter, the object of which was to prevail on the most distinguished chiefs of the Sioux to accompany him to Washington.