The Spirits Of The Party, However, Which Had Been Elated On First
Varying Their Journeying From Land To Water, Had Now Lost Some Of
Their Buoyancy.
Everything ahead was wrapped in uncertainty.
They
knew nothing of the river on which they were floating. It had
never been navigated by a white man, nor could they meet with an
Indian to give them any information concerning it. It kept on its
course through a vast wilderness of silent and apparently
uninhabited mountains, without a savage wigwam upon its banks, or
bark upon its waters. The difficulties and perils they had
already passed made them apprehend others before them, that might
effectually bar their progress. As they glided onward, however,
they regained heart and hope. The current continued to be strong;
but it was steady, and though they met with frequent rapids, none
of them were bad. Mountains were constantly to be seen in
different directions, but sometimes the swift river glided
through prairies, and was bordered by small cotton-wood trees and
willows. These prairies at certain seasons are ranged by
migratory herds of the wide-wandering buffalo, the tracks of
which, though not of recent date, were frequently to be seen.
Here, too, were to be found the prickly pear or Indian fig, a
plant which loves a more southern climate. On the land were large
flights of magpies and American robins; whole fleets of ducks and
geese navigated the river, or flew off in long streaming files at
the approach of the canoes; while the frequent establishments of
the painstaking and quiet-loving beaver showed that the solitude
of these waters was rarely disturbed, even by the all-pervading
savage.
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