On The 24th Of August, The Bull Boat Emerged, With Its
Adventurous Crew, Into The Broad Bosom Of The Mighty Missouri.
Here, About Six Miles Above The Mouth Of The Yellowstone, The
Voyagers Landed At Fort Union, The Distributing Post Of The
American Fur Company In The Western Country.
It was a stockaded
fortress, about two hundred and twenty feet square, pleasantly
situated on a high bank.
Here they were hospitably entertained by
Mr. M'Kenzie, the superintendent, and remained with him three
days, enjoying the unusual luxuries of bread, butter, milk, and
cheese, for the fort was well supplied with domestic cattle,
though it had no garden. The atmosphere of these elevated regions
is said to be too dry for the culture of vegetables; yet the
voyagers, in coming down the Yellowstone, had met with plums,
grapes, cherries, and currants, and had observed ash and elm
trees. Where these grow the climate cannot be incompatible with
gardening.
At Fort Union, Wyeth met with a melancholy memento of one of his
men. This was a powder-flask, which a clerk had purchased from a
Blackfoot warrior. It bore the initials of poor More, the
unfortunate youth murdered the year previously, at Jackson's
Hole, by the Blackfeet, and whose bones had been subsequently
found by Captain Bonneville. This flask had either been passed
from hand to hand of the youth, or, perhaps, had been brought to
the fort by the very savage who slew him.
As the bull boat was now nearly worn out, and altogether unfit
for the broader and more turbulent stream of the Missouri, it was
given up, and a canoe of cottonwood, about twenty feet long,
fabricated by the Blackfeet, was purchased to supply its place.
In this Wyeth hoisted his sail, and bidding adieu to the
hospitable superintendent of Fort Union, turned his prow to the
east, and set off down the Missouri.
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