Were all as sound asleep as though in the midst of a
fortress.
A little before day, they were all on the alert; it was the hour
for Indian maraud. A sentinel was immediately detached, to post
himself at a little distance on their trail, and give the alarm,
should he see or hear an enemy.
With the first blink of dawn, the rest sought the horses; brought
them to the camp, and tied them up, until an hour after sunrise;
when, the sentinel having reported that all was well, they sprang
once more into their saddles, and pursued the most covert and
secret paths up the mountain, avoiding the direct route.
At noon, they halted and made a hasty repast; and then bent their
course so as to regain the route from which they had diverged.
They were now made sensible of the danger from which they had
just escaped. There were tracks of Indians, who had evidently
been in pursuit of them; but had recently returned, baffled in
their search.
Trusting that they had now got a fair start, and could not be
overtaken before night, even in case the Indians should renew the
chase, they pushed briskly forward, and did not encamp until
late; when they cautiously concealed themselves in a secure nook
of the mountains.
Without any further alarm, they made their way to the head waters
of Wind River, and reached the neighborhood in which they had
appointed the rendezvous with their companions. It was within the
precincts of the Crow country; the Wind River valley being one of
the favorite haunts of that restless tribe. After much searching,
Captain Bonneville came upon a trail which had evidently been
made by his main party. It was so old, however, that he feared
his people might have left the neighborhood; driven off, perhaps
by some of those war parties which were on the prowl. He
continued his search with great anxiety, and no little fatigue;
for his horses were jaded, and almost crippled, by their forced
marches and scramblings through rocky defiles.
On the following day, about noon, Captain Bonneville came upon a
deserted camp of his people, from which they had, evidently,
turned back; but he could find no signs to indicate why they had
done so; whether they had met with misfortune, or molestation, or
in what direction they had gone. He was now, more than ever,
perplexed.
On the following day, he resumed his march with increasing
anxiety. The feet of his horses had by this time become so worn
and wounded by the rocks, that he had to make moccasons for them
of buffalo hide. About noon, he came to another deserted camp of
his men; but soon after lost their trail.
