On The Bank Of A Small Stream Emptying Into Snake River At This
Place, Mr. Stuart Found An Encampment Of Shoshonies.
He made the
usual inquiry of them concerning the white man of whom he had
received intelligence.
No such person was dwelling among them,
but they said there were white men residing with some of their
nation on the opposite side of the river. This was still more
animating information. Mr. Crooks now hoped that these might be
the men of his party, who, disheartened by perils and hardships,
had preferred to remain among the Indians. Others thought they
might be Mr. Miller and the hunters who had left the main body at
Henry's Fort, to trap among the mountain streams. Mr. Stuart
halted, therefore, in the neighborhood of the Shoshonie lodges,
and sent an Indian across the river to seek out the white men in
question, and bring them to his camp.
The travellers passed a restless, miserable night. The place
swarmed with myriads of mosquitoes, which, with their stings and
their music, set all sleep at defiance. The morning dawn found
them in a feverish, irritable mood, and their spleen was
completely aroused by the return of the Indian without any
intelligence of the white men. They now considered themselves the
dupes of Indian falsehoods, and resolved to put no more
confidence in Snakes. They soon, however, forgot this resolution.
In the course of the morning, an Indian came galloping after
them; Mr. Stuart waited to receive him; no sooner had he come up,
than, dismounting and throwing his arms around the neck of Mr.
Stuart's horse, he began to kiss and caress the animal, who, on
his part, seemed by no means surprised or displeased with his
salutation.
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