BIRDS.
The Grouse, or Prairie-Hen.—This is peculiarly the inhabitant of the great plains of the Columbia, but does not differ from those of the upper portion of the Missouri. In the winter season, this bird is booted to the first joint of the toes. The toes are curiously bordered on their lower edges with narrow, hard scales, which are placed very close to each other, and extend horizontally about one-eighth of an inch on each side of the toes, adding much to the broadness of the feet,—a security which Nature has furnished them for passing over the snow with more ease,—and, what is very remarkable, in the summer season these scales drop from the feet. The color of this bird is a mixture of dark brown, reddish, andyellowish brown, with white confusedly mixed. The reddish-brown prevails most on the upper parts of the body, wings, and tail; and the white, under the belly and the lower parts of the breast and tail. They associate in large flocks in autumn and winter; and, even in summer, are seen in companies of five or six. They feed on grass, insects, leaves of various shrubs in the plains, and the seeds of several species of plants which grow in richer soils. In winter, their food consists of the buds of the willow and cottonwood, and native berries.
The cock of the plains is found on the plains of the Columbia in great abundance. The beak is large, short, covered, and convex; the upper exceeding the lower chap. The nostrils are large, and the back black. The color is a uniform mixture of a dark-brown, resembling the dove, and a reddish or yellowish brown, with some small black specks. The habits of this bird resemble those of the grouse, excepting that his food is the leaf and buds of the pulpy-leaved thorn. The flesh is dark, and only tolerable in point of flavor.
HORNED FROG.
The horned lizard, or horned frog, called, for what reason we never could learn, the prairie buffalo, isa native of these plains as well as of those of the Missouri. The color is generally brown, intermixed with yellowish spots. The animal is covered with minute scales, interspersed with small horny points, or prickles, on the upper surface of the body. The belly and throat resemble those of the frog, and are of a light yellowish-brown. The edge of the belly is likewise beset with small horny projections. The eye is small and dark. Above and behind the eyes there are several bony projections, which resemble horns sprouting from the head.
These animals are found in greatest numbers in the sandy, open plains, and appear most abundant after a shower of rain. They are sometimes found basking in the sunshine, but generally conceal themselves in little holes of the earth. This may account for their appearance in such numbers after rain, as their holes may thus be rendered untenantable.
March, 1806.—Many reasons had inclined us to remain at Fort Clatsop till the 1st of April. Besides the want of fuel in the Columbian plains, and the impracticability of crossing the mountains before the beginning of June, we were anxious to see some of the foreign traders, from whom, by our ample letters of credit, we might recruit our exhausted stores of merchandise. About the middle of March, however, we became seriously alarmed for the want of food. The elk, our chief dependence, had at length deserted its usual haunts in our neighborhood, and retreated to the mountains. We were too poor to purchase food from the Indians; so that we were sometimes reduced, notwithstanding all the exertions of our hunters, to a single day's provision in advance. The men too, whom the constant rains and confinement had rendered unhealthy, might, we hoped, bebenefited by leaving the coast, and resuming the exercise of travelling. We therefore determined to leave Fort Clatsop, ascend the river slowly, consume the month of March in the woody country, where we hoped to find subsistence, and in this way reach the plains about the 1st of April, before which time it will be impossible to cross them.
During the winter, we have been very industrious in dressing skins; so that we now have a sufficient quantity of clothing, besides between three and four hundred pairs of moccasons. But the whole stock of goods on which we are to depend for the purchase of horses or of food, during the long journey of four thousand miles, is so much diminished, that it might all be tied in two handkerchiefs. We therefore feel that our chief dependence must be on our guns, which, fortunately, are all in good order, as we took the precaution of bringing a number of extra locks, and one of our men proved to be an excellent gunsmith. The powder had been secured in leaden canisters; and, though on many occasions they had been under water, it remained perfectly dry: and we now found ourselves in possession of one hundred and forty pounds of powder, and twice that weight of lead,—a stock quite sufficient for the route homewards.
We were now ready to leave Fort Clatsop; but the rain prevented us for several days from calking the canoes, and we were forced to wait for calm weather before we could attempt to pass Point William, which projects about a mile and a half into the sea, forming, as it were, the dividing-line between the river and the ocean; for the water below is salt, while that above is fresh.
On March 23, at one o'clock in the afternoon, we took a final leave of Fort Clatsop. We doubled Point William without any injury, and at six o'clock reached the mouth of a small creek, where we found our hunters. They had been fortunate enough to kill two elks, which were brought in, and served for breakfast next morning.
Next day, we were overtaken by two Wahkiacums, who brought two dogs, for which they wanted us to give them some tobacco; but, as we had very little of that article left, they were obliged to go away disappointed. We received at the same time an agreeable supply of three eagles and a large goose, brought in by the hunters.
We passed the entrance of Cowalitz River, seventy miles from our winter camp. This stream enters the Columbia from the north; is one hundred and fiftyyards wide; deep and navigable, as the Indians assert, for a considerable distance; and probably waters the country west and north of the Cascade Mountains, which cross the Columbia between the great falls and rapids. During the day, we passed a number of fishing-camps on both sides of the river, and were constantly attended by small parties of Skilloots, who behaved in the most orderly manner, and from whom we purchased as much fish and roots as we wanted, on moderate terms. The night continued as the day had been,—cold, wet, and disagreeable; which is the general character of the weather in this region at this season.
March 29.—At an early hour, we resumed our route, and halted for breakfast at the upper end of an island where is properly the commencement of the great Columbian Valley. We landed at a village of fourteen large wooden houses. The people received us kindly, and spread before us wappatoo and anchovies; but, as soon as we had finished enjoying this hospitality (if it deserves that name), they began to ask us for presents. They were, however, perfectly satisfied with the small articles which we distributed according to custom, and equally pleased with our purchasing some wappatoo, twelve dogs, and twosea-otter skins. We also gave the chief a small medal, which he soon transferred to his wife.
April 1.—We met a number of canoes filled with families descending the river. These people told us that they lived at the Great Rapids, but that a scarcity of provisions there had induced them to come down in hopes of finding subsistence in this fertile valley. All those who lived at the rapids, as well as the nations above them, they said, were in much distress for want of food, having consumed their winter store of dried fish, and not expecting the return of the salmon before the next full moon, which will be on the 2d of May.
This intelligence was disagreeable and embarrassing. From the falls to the Chopunnish nation, the plains afford no deer, elk, or antelope, on which we can rely for subsistence. The horses are very poor at this season; and the dogs must be in the same condition, if their food, the fish, have failed. On the other hand, it is obviously inexpedient to wait for the return of the salmon, since, in that case, we may not reach the Missouri before the ice will prevent our navigating it. We therefore decided to remain here only till we collect meat enough to last us till we reach the Chopunnish nation, with whom we left ourhorses on our downward journey, trusting that we shall find the animals safe, and have them faithfully returned to us; for, without them, the passage of the mountains will be almost impracticable.
April 2, 1806.—Several canoes arrived to visit us; and among the party were two young men who belonged to a nation, which, they said, resides at the falls of a large river which empties itself into the south side of the Columbia, a few miles below us; and they drew a map of the country with a coal on a mat. In order to verify this information, Capt. Clarke persuaded one of the young men, by the present of a burning-glass, to accompany him to the river, in search of which he immediately set out with a canoe and seven of our men.
In the evening, Capt. Clarke returned from his excursion. After descending about twenty miles, he entered the mouth of a large river, which was concealed, by three small islands opposite its entrance, from those who pass up or down the Columbia. This river, which the Indians call Multnomah, from a nation of the same name residing near it on Wappatoo Island, enters the Columbia one hundred and forty miles above the mouth of the latter river. The current of the Multnomah, which is also called Willamett,is as gentle as that of the Columbia; and it appears to possess water enough for the largest ship, since, on sounding with a line of five fathoms, they could find no bottom.
Capt. Clarke ascended the river to the village of his guide. He found here a building two hundred and twenty-six feet in front, entirely above ground, and all under one roof; otherwise it would seem more like a range of buildings, as it is divided into seven distinct apartments, each thirty feet square. The roof is formed of rafters, with round poles laid on them longitudinally. The whole is covered with a double row of the bark of the white cedar, secured by splinters of dried fir, inserted through it at regular distances. In this manner, the roof is made light, strong, and durable.
In the house were several old people of both sexes, who were treated with much respect, and still seemed healthy, though most of them were perfectly blind.
On inquiring the cause of the decline of their village, which was shown pretty clearly by the remains of several deserted buildings, an old man, father of the guide, and a person of some distinction, brought forward a woman very much marked with the small-pox,and said, that, when a girl, she was near dying with the disorder which had left those marks, and that the inhabitants of the houses now in ruins had fallen victims to the same disease.
WAPPATOO ISLAND AND ROOT.
Wappatoo Island is a large extent of country lying between the Multnomah River and an arm of the Columbia. The island is about twenty miles long, and varies in breadth from five to ten miles. The land is high, and extremely fertile, and on most parts is supplied with a heavy growth of cottonwood, ash, and willow. But the chief wealth of this island consists of the numerous ponds in the interior, abounding with the common arrowhead (Sagittaria sagittifolia), to the root of which is attached a bulb growing beneath it, in the mud. This bulb, to which the Indians give the name ofwappatoo, is the great article of food, and almost the staple article of commerce, on the Columbia. It is never out of season; so that, at all times of the year, the valley is frequented by the neighboring Indians who come to gather it. It is collected chiefly by the women, who employ for the purpose canoes from ten to fourteen feet in length, about two feet wide, and nine inches deep, taperingfrom the middle, where they are about twenty inches wide. They are sufficient to contain a single person and several bushels of roots; yet so light, that a woman can carry one with ease. She takes one of these canoes into a pond where the water is as high as the breast, and, by means of her toes, separates from the root this bulb, which, on being freed from the mud, rises immediately to the surface of the water, and is thrown into the canoe. In this manner, these patient females remain in the water for several hours, even in the depth of winter. This plant is found through the whole extent of the valley in which we now are, but does not grow on the Columbia farther eastward.
SCENERY OF THE RIVER AND SHORES.
Above the junction of the Multnomah River, we passed along under high, steep, and rocky sides of the mountains, which here close in on each side of the river, forming stupendous precipices, covered with the fir and white cedar. Down these heights frequently descend the most beautiful cascades,—one of which, a large stream, throws itself over a perpendicular rock, three hundred feet above the water; while other smaller streams precipitate themselves from a still greater elevation, and, separating into amist, again collect, and form a second cascade before they reach the bottom of the rocks.
The hills on both sides of the river are about two hundred and fifty feet high, generally abrupt and craggy, and in many places presenting a perpendicular face of black, hard, basaltic rock. From the top of these hills, the country extends itself, in level plains, to a very great distance.
To one remarkable elevation we gave the name of Beacon Rock. It stands on the north side of the river, insulated from the hills. The northern side has a partial growth of fir or pine. To the south, it rises in an unbroken precipice to the height of seven hundred feet, where it terminates in a sharp point, and may be seen at the distance of twenty miles. This rock may be considered as the point where tidewater commences.
April 19.—We formed our camp at the foot of the Long Narrows, a little above a settlement of Skilloots. Their dwellings were formed by sticks set in the ground, and covered with mats and straw, and so large, that each was the residence of several families.
The whole village was filled with rejoicing at having caught a salmon, which was considered as the harbinger of vast quantities that would arrive in afew days. In the belief that it would hasten their coming, the Indians, according to their custom, dressed the fish, and cut it into small pieces, one of which was given to every child in the village; and, in the good humor excited by this occurrence, they parted, though reluctantly, with four horses, for which we gave them two kettles, reserving to ourselves only one.
We resumed our route, and soon after halted on a hill, from the top of which we had a commanding view of the range of mountains in which Mount Hood stands, and which continued south as far as the eye could reach; their summits being covered with snow. Mount Hood bore south thirty degrees west; and another snowy summit, which we have called Mount Jefferson, south ten degrees west.
Capt. Clarke crossed the river, with nine men and a large part of the merchandise, to purchase, if possible, twelve horses to transport our baggage, and some pounded fish, as a reserve, on the passage across the mountains. He succeeded in purchasing only four horses, and those at double the price that had been paid to the Shoshonees.
April 20.—As it was much for our interest to preserve the good will of these people, we passed overseveral small thefts which they had committed; but this morning we learned that six tomahawks and a knife had been stolen during the night. We addressed ourselves to the chief, who seemed angry with his people; but we did not recover the articles: and soon afterwards two of our spoons were missing. We therefore ordered them all from the camp. They left us in ill-humor, and we therefore kept on our guard against any insult.
April 22.—We began our march at seven o'clock. We had just reached the top of a hill near the village, when the load of one of the horses turned; and the animal, taking fright at a robe which still adhered to him, ran furiously toward the village. Just as he came there, the robe fell, and an Indian made way with it. The horse was soon caught; but the robe was missing, and the Indians denied having seen it. These repeated acts of knavery had quite exhausted our patience; and Capt. Lewis set out for the village, determined to make them deliver up the robe, or to burn their houses to the ground. This retaliation was happily rendered unnecessary; for on his way he met two of our men, who had found the robe in one of the huts, hid behind some baggage.
April 24.—The Indians had promised to take ourcanoes in exchange for horses; but, when they found that we were resolved on travelling by land, they refused giving us any thing for them, in hopes that we would be forced to leave them. Disgusted at this conduct, we determined rather to cut them in pieces than suffer these people to possess them; and actually began to do so, when they consented to give us several strands of beads for each canoe.
We had now a sufficient number of horses to carry our baggage, and therefore proceeded wholly by land. Passing between the hills and the northern shore of the river, we had a difficult and fatiguing march over a road alternately sandy and rocky.
The country through which we have passed for several days is of uniform character. The hills on both sides of the river are about two hundred and fifty feet high, in many places presenting a perpendicular face of black, solid rock. From the top of these hills, the country extends, in level plains, to a very great distance, and, though not as fertile as land near the falls, produces an abundant supply of low grass, which is an excellent food for horses. The grass must indeed be unusually nutritious: for even at this season of the year, after wintering on the dry grass of the plains, and being used with greaterseverity than is usual among the whites, many of the horses were perfectly fat; nor had we seen a single one that was really poor.
Having proceeded thirty-one miles, we halted for the night not far from some houses of the Walla-wallas. Soon after stopping, we were joined by seven of that tribe, among whom we recognized a chief by the name of Yellept, who had visited us in October last, when we gave him a medal.
He appeared very much pleased at seeing us again, and invited us to remain at his village three or four days, during which he would supply us with such food as they had, and furnish us with horses for our journey. After the cold, inhospitable treatment we had lately received, this kind offer was peculiarly acceptable. After having made a hasty meal, we accompanied him to his village. Immediately on our arrival, Yellept, who proved to be a man of much influence, collected the inhabitants, and after having made an harangue to them, the object of which was to induce them to treat us hospitably, set them an example by bringing himself an armful of wood, and a platter containing three roasted mullets. They immediately followed the example by furnishing us with an abundance of the only sort of fuel they use,—thestems of shrubs growing in the plains. We then purchased four dogs, on which we supped heartily, having been on short allowance for two days previously.
We learned from these people, that, opposite to their village, there was a route which led to the mouth of the Kooskooskee; that the road was good, and passed over a level country well supplied with water and grass; and that we should meet with plenty of deer and antelope. We knew that a road in that direction would shorten our route eighty miles; and we concluded to adopt this route.
Fortunately there was among these Walla-wallas a prisoner belonging to a tribe of the Shoshonee Indians. Our Shoshonee woman, Sacajawea, though she belonged to another tribe, spoke the same language as this prisoner; and by their means we were enabled to explain ourselves to the Indians, and to answer all their inquiries with respect to ourselves and the object of our journey. Our conversation inspired them with such confidence, that they soon brought several sick persons for whom they requested our assistance. We splintered the broken arm of one, gave some relief to another whose knee was contracted by rheumatism, and administered what we thought would be useful for ulcers anderuptions of the skin on various parts of the body, which are very common disorders among them. But our most valuable medicine was eye-water, which we distributed, and which, indeed, they very much required; for complaints of the eyes, occasioned by living so much on the water, and aggravated by the fine sand of the plains, were universal among them.
We were by no means dissatisfied at this new resource for obtaining subsistence, as the Indians would give us no provisions without merchandise, and our stock was very much reduced. We carefully abstained from giving them any thing but harmless medicines; and our prescriptions might be useful, and were therefore entitled to some remuneration.
May 5.—Almost the only instance of rudeness we encountered in our whole trip occurred here. We made our dinner on two dogs and a small quantity of roots. While we were eating, an Indian standing by, and looking with great derision at our eating dog's-flesh, threw a half-starved puppy almost into Capt. Lewis's plate, laughing heartily at the humor of it. Capt. Lewis took up the animal, and flung it back with great force into the fellow's face, and, seizing his tomahawk, threatened to cut him down if hedared to repeat such insolence. He went off, apparently much mortified; and we continued our dog-repast very quietly.
Here we met our old Chopunnish guide and his family; and soon afterward one of our horses, which had been separated from the others in the charge of Twisted-hair, was caught, and restored to us.
THE WALLA-WALLA.
We reached (May 1) a branch of the Walla-walla River. The hills of this creek are generally abrupt and rocky; but the narrow bottom bordering the stream is very fertile, and both possess twenty times as much timber as the Columbia itself. Indeed, we now find, for the first time since leaving Fort Clatsop, an abundance of firewood. The growth consists of cotton-wood, birch, the crimson haw, willow, choke-cherry, yellow currants, gooseberry, honeysuckle, rose-bushes, sumac, together with some corn-grass and rushes.
The advantage of a comfortable fire induced us, as the night was come, to halt at this place. We were soon supplied by Drewyer with a beaver and an otter; of which we took only a part of the beaver, and gave the rest to the Indians. The otter is afavorite food, though much inferior, in our estimation, to the dog, which they will not eat. The horse, too, is seldom eaten, and never except when absolute necessity compels. This fastidiousness does not, however, seem to proceed so much from any dislike to the food as from attachment to the animal; for many of them eat very freely of the horse-beef we give them.
There is very little difference in the general face of the country here from that of the plains on the Missouri, except that the latter are enlivened by vast herds of buffaloes, elks, and other animals, which are wanting here. Over these wide bottoms we continued, till, at the distance of twenty-six miles from our last encampment, we halted for the night.
We had scarcely encamped, when three young men from the Walla-walla village came in with a steel-trap, which we had inadvertently left behind, and which they had come a whole day's journey on purpose to restore. This act of integrity was the more pleasing because it corresponds perfectly with the general behavior of the Walla-wallas, among whom we had lost carelessly several knives, which were always returned as soon as found. We may, indeed, justly affirm, that, of all the Indians whom wehave met, the Walla-wallas were the most hospitable, honest, and sincere.
TWISTED-HAIR.
On Wednesday, the 7th of May, we reached the Kooskooskee, and found it much more navigable than when we descended it last year. The water was risen, and covered the rocks and shoals. Here we found the chief, named Twisted-hair, in whose charge we had left our horses in our outward journey. We had suspicions that our horses, and especially our saddles, might not be easily recoverable after our long absence. The Twisted-hair was invited to come, and smoke with us. He accepted the invitation, and, as we smoked our pipes over the fire, informed us, that, according to his promise, he had collected the horses, and taken charge of them; but another chief, the Broken-arm, becoming jealous of him because the horses were confided to his care, was constantly quarrelling with him. At length, being an old man, and unwilling to live in perpetual disputes, he had given up the care of the horses, which had consequently become scattered. The greater part of them were, however, still in this neighborhood. He added, that on the rise of the river, in the spring, the earth hadfallen from the door of thecache, and exposed the saddles, some of which had probably been lost; but, as soon as he was acquainted with the situation of them, he had had them buried in another place, where they were now. He promised that he would, on the morrow, send his young men, and collect such of the horses as were in the neighborhood. He kept his word. Next day, the Indians brought in twenty-one of the horses, the greater part of which were in excellent order; and the Twisted-hair restored about half the saddles we had left in thecache, and some powder and lead which were buried at the same place.
May 17.—The country along the Rocky Mountains, for several hundred miles in length and fifty in width, is a high level plain; in all its parts extremely fertile, and in many places covered with a growth of tall, long-leaved pine. Nearly the whole of this wide tract is covered with a profusion of grass and plants, which are at this time as high as the knee. Among these are a variety of esculent plants and roots, yielding a nutritious and agreeable food. The air is pure and dry; the climate as mild as that of the same latitudes in the Atlantic States, and must be equally healthy, since all the disorders which we have witnessed may fairly be imputed to other causes than the climate. Of course, the degrees of heat and cold obey the influence of situation. Thus the rains of the low grounds are snows in the high plains; and, while the sun shines withintense heat in the confined river-bottoms, the plains enjoy a much cooler air; and, at the foot of the mountains, the snows are even now many feet in depth.
CROSSING THE MOUNTAINS.
An attempt to cross the mountains in the early part of June failed on account of the snow, which still covered the track. It was plain we should have no chance of finding either grass or underwood for our horses. To proceed, therefore, would be to hazard the loss of our horses; in which case, if we should be so fortunate as to escape with our lives, we should be obliged to abandon our papers and collections. It was accordingly decided not to venture farther; to deposit here all the baggage and provisions for which we had no immediate use, and to return to some spot where we might live by hunting till the snow should have melted, or a guide be procured to conduct us. We submitted, June 17, to the mortification of retracing our steps three days' march.
On the 24th June, having been so fortunate as to engage three Indians to go with us to the falls of the Missouri for the compensation of two guns, we set out on our second attempt to cross the mountains. On reaching the place where we had left ourbaggage, we found our deposit perfectly safe. It required two hours to arrange our baggage, and prepare a hasty meal; after which the guides urged us to set off, as we had a long ride to make before we could reach a spot where there was grass for our horses. We mounted, and followed their steps; sometimes crossed abruptly steep hills, and then wound along their sides, near tremendous precipices, where, had our horses slipped, we should have been irrecoverably lost. Our route lay along the ridges which separate the waters of the Kooskooskee and Chopunnish, and above the heads of all the streams; so that we met no running water. Late in the evening, we reached a spot where we encamped near a good spring of water. It was on the steep side of a mountain, with no wood, and a fair southern aspect, from which the snow seemed to have disappeared for about ten days, and an abundant growth of young grass, like greensward, had sprung up. There was also a species of grass not unlike flag, with a broad succulent leaf, which is confined to the upper parts of the mountains. It is a favorite food with the horses; but it was then either covered with snow, or just making its appearance.
June 27.—We continued our route over the highand steep hills of the same great ridge. At eight miles' distance, we reached an eminence where the Indians have raised a conical mound of stone six or eight feet high. From this spot we have a commanding view of the surrounding mountains, which so completely enclose us, that, although we have once passed them, we should despair of ever escaping from them without the assistance of the Indians; but our guides traverse this trackless region with a kind of instinctive sagacity. They never hesitate; they are never embarrassed; yet so undeviating is their step, that, wherever the snow has disappeared for even a hundred paces, we find the summer road. With their aid, the snow is scarcely a disadvantage; for although we are often obliged to slide down, yet the fallen timber and the rocks, which are now covered up, were much more troublesome when we passed in the autumn.
NOTE. A later traveller through this region writes, "The mountains are indeedrocky. They are rocks heaped upon rocks, with no vegetation, excepting a few cedars growing out of the crevices near their base. Their tops are covered with perpetual snow. The main ridge of the mountains is ofgneissrock; yet, to-day, parallel ridges of a rock, nearly allied tobasalt, have abounded. These ridges appear to be volcanic, forced up indikesat different distances from each other, running from east-north-east to west-south-west. The strata are mostly vertical; but some are a little dipped to the south."Our encampment was near a small stream which runs through a volcanic chasm, which is more than a hundred feet deep, with perpendicular sides. Here was a passage made for thewaterbyfire."
NOTE. A later traveller through this region writes, "The mountains are indeedrocky. They are rocks heaped upon rocks, with no vegetation, excepting a few cedars growing out of the crevices near their base. Their tops are covered with perpetual snow. The main ridge of the mountains is ofgneissrock; yet, to-day, parallel ridges of a rock, nearly allied tobasalt, have abounded. These ridges appear to be volcanic, forced up indikesat different distances from each other, running from east-north-east to west-south-west. The strata are mostly vertical; but some are a little dipped to the south.
"Our encampment was near a small stream which runs through a volcanic chasm, which is more than a hundred feet deep, with perpendicular sides. Here was a passage made for thewaterbyfire."
THE PARTY AGREE TO SEPARATE.
July 3, 1806.—It was agreed here that the expedition should be divided, to unite again at the confluence of the Missouri and the Yellowstone. The separation took place near the point where Clarke's River is crossed by the forty-seventh parallel of latitude. Capt. Lewis, with nine men, was to cross the mountains in a direction as nearly due east as possible, expecting to find some tributary of the Missouri, by following which he might reach that river, and by it retrace his way homeward. Capt. Clarke, with the remainder of the party, was to seek the head waters of the Yellowstone, and follow that stream to the proposed place of re-union.
In conformity with this arrangement, Capt. Lewis, under the guidance of friendly Indians, crossed the mountains by a route which led him, after travellingone hundred and four miles, to Medicine River, and by that river to the Missouri. He reached the falls of the Missouri on the 17th of July, and leaving there a portion of his party, under Sergt. Gass, to make preparations for transporting their baggage and canoes round the falls, set out, accompanied by Drewyer and the two brothers Fields, with six horses, to explore Maria's River, to ascertain its extent toward the north. From the 18th to the 26th, they were engaged in this exploration. On the eve of their return, an event occurred, which, being the only instance in which the expedition was engaged in any conflict with the Indians with loss of life, requires to be particularly related.
CONFLICT WITH THE INDIANS.
We were passing through a region frequented by the Minnetarees, a band of Indians noted for their thievish propensities and unfriendly dispositions. Capt. Lewis was therefore desirous to avoid meeting with them. Drewyer had been sent out for game, and Capt. Lewis ascended a hill to look over the country. Scarcely had he reached the top, when he saw, about a mile on his left, a collection of about thirty horses. By the aid of his spy-glass, hediscovered that one-half of the horses were saddled, and that, on the eminence above the horses, several Indians were looking down towards 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 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 such an emergency 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 so, they appeared to be much alarmed, and ran about in confusion. When we came within a quarter of a mile, one of the Indians mounted, and rode towards us. When within a hundred paces of us, he halted; and Capt. Lewis, who had alighted to receive him, held out his hand, and beckoned him to approach: but he only looked at us, and then, without saying a word, returned to his companions.
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, as there were several more horses saddled. Capt. Lewis had with him but two men; and he told them his fears that these were Indians of the Minnetaree tribe, and that they would attempt to rob us, and advised them to be on the alert, should there appear any disposition to attack us.
When the two parties came within a hundred yards of each other, all the Indians, except one, halted. Capt. 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 our two men. They all now came up; and, after alighting, the Indians asked to smoke with us. Capt. 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 Fields went with a young man in search of Drewyer, who returned with them.
As it was growing late, Capt. Lewis proposed that they should encamp with us; for he was glad to seethem, and had a great deal to say to them. They assented; and, being soon joined by Drewyer, the evening was spent in conversation with the Indians, in which Capt. Lewis endeavored to persuade them to cultivate peace with their neighbors. Finding them very fond of the pipe, Capt. Lewis, who was desirous of keeping a constant watch during the night, smoked with them to 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 he feared they would attempt to steal our horses, he lay down by the side of Drewyer in the tent with the Indians, while the brothers Fields were stretched near the fire at the mouth of the tent.
At sunrise, 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 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 Capt. 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 therifles, R. Fields stabbed him through the heart with his knife. The Indian ran a few steps, and fell dead. They recovered their rifles, and ran back to the camp.
The moment the fellow touched his gun, Drewyer, who was awake, jumped up, and wrested it from him. The noise awoke Capt. Lewis, who instantly started from the ground, and reached to seize his gun, but found it gone, and, turning about, saw the Indian running off with it. He followed, and called to him to lay down the gun; which he did. By this time, the rest of the Indians were endeavoring to drive off our horses; and Capt. Lewis ordered his men to follow them, and fire upon the thieves if they did not release our horses. The result was, that we recovered four of our horses, and as many of theirs which they had left behind; so that we were rather gainers by the contest. Besides the Indian killed by Fields, one other was badly wounded.
We had no doubt but that we should be immediately pursued by a much larger party. Our only chance of safety was in rejoining our friends, who were many miles distant. We therefore pushed our horses as fast as we could; and, fortunately for us, the Indian horses proved very good. The plains were level, free from stones andprickly-pears, and in fine order for travelling over from the late rains. We commenced our ride in the early morning. At three o'clock, we had ridden, by estimate, sixty-three miles. We halted for an hour and a half to refresh our horses; then pursued our journey seventeen miles farther, when, as night came on, we killed a buffalo, 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 for twenty miles farther, and then, exhausted with fatigue, halted at two in the morning. Next day, we rejoined the main body of our party in safety.
Capt. Lewis with his companions pursued their way down the Missouri, passing those points already noticed in their ascent. Our narrative, therefore, will leave them here, and attend the course of Capt. Clarke and his party down the Yellowstone.
July 3, 1806.—The party under Capt. Clarke, consisting of fifteen men, with 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, and is diversified by a number of small open plains, abounding with grass and a variety of sweet-scented plants, and watered by numerous streams rushing from the western mountains. These mountains were covered with snow about one-fifth of the way from the top; and some snow was still to be seen in the hollows of the mountains to the eastward.
July 7.—They reached Wisdom River, and 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 largequantities. It is slightly impregnated with sulphur, and so hot, that a piece of meat, about the size of three fingers, was completely cooked in twenty-five minutes.
July 8.—They arrived at Jefferson's River, where they had deposited their goods in the month of August the year before. They found every thing safe, though some of the goods were a little damp, and one of the canoes had a hole in it. They had now crossed from Traveller's-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, an excellent road; and, by cutting down a few trees, it might be rendered a good route for wagons, with the exception of about four miles over one of the mountains, which would require a little levelling.
July 10.—The boats were now loaded, and Capt. Clarke divided his men into two bands. Sergt. Ordway, with nine men, in six canoes, was to descend the river; while Capt. Clarke, with the remaining ten, the wife and child of Chaboneau, and fifty horses, were to proceed by land to the Yellowstone. The latter party set out at five in the afternoon from the forks of the Missouri, in a direction nearly east. The plain was intersected by several great roadsleading to a gap in the mountain about twenty miles distant, in a direction east-north-east; but the Indian woman, who was acquainted with the country, recommended another gap more to the south, through which Capt. Clarke determined to proceed.
They started early the next morning, and, pursuing the route recommended by the squaw, encamped in the evening at the entrance of the gap mentioned by her. Through this gap they passed next day, and, at the distance of six miles, reached the top of the dividing ridge which separates the waters of the Missouri from those of the Yellowstone. Nine miles from the summit, they reached the Yellowstone itself, about a mile and a half below where it issues from the Rocky Mountains. The distance from the head of the Missouri to this place is forty-eight miles, the greater part of which is through a level plain. They halted for three hours to rest their horses, and then pursued the Buffalo Road along the banks of the river.
Although but just emerging from a high, snowy mountain, the Yellowstone is here a bold, rapid, and deep stream, one hundred and twenty yards in width. They continued their course along the river till the 23d, when the party embarked on board of twocanoes, each of which was twenty-eight feet long, sixteen or eighteen inches deep, and from sixteen to twenty-four inches wide. Sergt. Prior, with two men, was directed to take the horses to the Mandans for safe keeping until the re-union of the expedition.
July 24.—At eight o'clock, Capt. Clarke and the remainder of his party embarked, and proceeded very steadily down the river. They passed the mouths of several large rivers emptying into the Yellowstone; one of which was called the Big-horn, from the numbers of that remarkable species of sheep seen in its neighborhood. Next day, Capt. Clarke landed to examine a curious rock, situated in an extensive bottom on the right, about two hundred and fifty paces from the shore. It is nearly two hundred paces in circumference, two hundred feet high, and accessible only from the north-east; the other sides consisting of perpendicular cliffs, of a light-colored, gritty stone. The soil on the summit is five or six feet deep, of a good quality, and covered with short grass. From this height, the eye ranges over a wide extent of variegated country. On the south-west are the Rocky Mountains, covered with snow; on the north, a lower range, called the Little Wolf Mountains. The low grounds of the river extend nearly six miles to thesouthward, when they rise into plains, reaching to the mountains. The north side of the river is bounded by jutting, romantic cliffs, beyond which the plains are open and extensive, and the whole country enlivened by herds of buffaloes, elks, and wolves. After enjoying the prospect from this rock, to which Capt. Clarke gave the name of Pompey's Pillar, he descended, and continued his route. At the distance of six or seven miles, he stopped to secure two bighorns, which had been shot from the boat, and, while on shore, saw in the face of the cliff, about twenty feet above the water, a fragment of the rib of a fish, three feet long, and nearly three inches round, embedded in the rock itself.