At An Early Hour One Day,
He Encamped In A Narrow Valley On The Banks Of A Beautifully
Clear But Rushy Pool; Surrounded By Thickets Bearing Abundance Of
Wild Cherries, Currants, And Yellow And Purple Gooseberries.
While the afternoon's meal was in preparation, Mr. Hunt and Mr.
M'Kenzie ascended to the summit of the nearest hill, from whence,
aided by the purity and transparency of the evening atmosphere,
they commanded a vast prospect on all sides.
Below them extended
a plain, dotted with innumerable herds of buffalo. Some were
lying among the herbage, others roaming in their unbounded
pastures, while many were engaged in fierce contests like those
already described, their low bellowings reaching the ear like the
hoarse murmurs of the surf on a distant shore.
Far off in the west they descried a range of lofty mountains
printing the clear horizon, some of them evidently capped with
snow. These they supposed to be the Bighorn Mountains, so called
from the animal of that name, with which they abound. They are a
spur of the great Rocky chain. The hill from whence Mr. Hunt had
this prospect was, according to his computation, about two
hundred and fifty miles from the Arickara village.
On returning to the camp, Mr. Hunt found some uneasiness
prevailing among the Canadian voyageurs. In straying among the
thickets they had beheld tracks of grizzly bears in every
direction, doubtless attracted thither by the fruit. To their
dismay, they now found that they had encamped in one of the
favorite resorts of this dreaded animal.
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