Not a sign of a
Crow was to be seen; but this did not assure them of their
security, well knowing the perseverance of these savages in
dogging any party they intend to rob, and the stealthy way in
which they can conceal their movements, keeping along ravines and
defiles. After a mountain scramble of twenty-one miles, they
encamped on the margin of a stream running to the north.
In the evening there was an alarm of Indians, and everyone was
instantly on the alert. They proved to be three miserable Snakes,
who were no sooner informed that a band of Crows was prowling in
the neighborhood than they made off with great signs of
consternation.
A couple more of weary days and watchful nights brought them to a
strong and rapid stream, running due north, which they concluded
to be one of the upper branches of Snake River. It was probably
the same since called Salt River.
They determined to bend their course down this river, as it would
take them still further out of the dangerous neighborhood of the
Crows. They then would strike upon Mr. Hunt's track of the
preceding autumn, and retrace it across the mountains. The
attempt to find a better route under guidance of Mr. Miller had
cost them a large bend to the south; in resuming Mr. Hunt's
track, they would at least be sure of their road.
