For
twenty-five miles did they toll on across this dismal desert, and
laid themselves down at night, parched and disconsolate, beside
their wormwood fires; looking forward to still greater sufferings
on the following day. Fortunately it began to rain in the night,
to their infinite relief; the water soon collected in puddles and
afforded them delicious draughts.
Refreshed in this manner, they resumed their wayfaring as soon as
the first streaks of dawn gave light enough for them to see their
path. The rain continued all day, so that they no longer suffered
from thirst, but hunger took its place, for after travelling
thirty-three miles they had nothing to sup on but a little
parched corn.
The next day brought them to the banks of a beautiful little
stream, running to the west, and fringed with groves of
cottonwood and willow. On its borders was an Indian camp, with a
great many horses grazing around it. The inhabitants, too,
appeared to be better clad than usual. The scene was altogether a
cheering one to the poor half-famished wanderers. They hastened
to their lodges, but on arriving at them met with a check that at
first dampened their cheerfulness. An Indian immediately laid
claim to the horse of Mr. Hunt, saying that it had been stolen
from him. There was no disproving a fact supported by numerous
bystanders, and which the horse stealing habits of the Indians
rendered but too probable; so Mr. Hunt relinquished his steed to
the claimant; not being able to retain him by a second purchase.
At this place they encamped for the night, and made a sumptuous
repast upon fish and a couple of dogs, procured from their Indian
neighbors. The next day they kept along the river, but came to a
halt after ten miles' march, on account of the rain. Here they
again got a supply of fish and dogs from the natives; and two of
the men were fortunate enough each to get a horse in exchange for
a buffalo robe. One of these men was Pierre Dorion, the half-
breed interpreter, to whose suffering family the horse was a
timely acquisition. And here we cannot but notice the wonderful
patience, perseverance, and hardihood of the Indian women, as
exemplified in the conduct of the poor squaw of the interpreter.
She was now far advanced in her pregnancy, and had two children
to take care of; one four, and the other two years of age. The
latter of course she had frequently to carry on her back, in
addition to the burden usually imposed upon the squaw, yet she
had borne all her hardships without a murmur, and throughout this
weary and painful journey had kept pace with the best of the
pedestrians. Indeed on various occasions in the course of this
enterprise, she displayed a force of character that won the
respect and applause of the white men.
Mr. Hunt endeavored to gather some information from these Indians
concerning the country and the course of the rivers. His
communications with them had to be by signs, and a few words
which he had learnt, and of course were extremely vague. All that
he could learn from them was that the great river, the Columbia,
was still far distant, but he could ascertain nothing as to the
route he ought to take to arrive at it. For the two following
days they continued westward upwards of forty miles along the
little stream, until they crossed it just before its junction
with Snake River, which they found still running to the north.
Before them was a wintry-looking mountain covered with snow on
all sides.
In three days more they made about seventy miles; fording two
small rivers, the waters of which were very cold. Provisions were
extremely scarce; their chief sustenance was portable soup; a
meagre diet for weary pedestrians.
On the 27th of November the river led them into the mountains
through a rocky defile where there was scarcely room to pass.
They were frequently obliged to unload the horses to get them by
the narrow places; and sometimes to wade through the water in
getting round rocks and butting cliffs. All their food this day
was a beaver which they had caught the night before; by evening,
the cravings of hunger were so sharp, and the prospect of any
supply among the mountains so faint, that they had to kill one of
the horses. "The men," says Mr. Hunt in his journal, "find the
meat very good, and, indeed, so should I, were it not for the
attachment I have to the animal."
Early the following day, after proceeding ten miles to the north,
they came to two lodges of Shoshonies, who seemed in nearly as
great extremity as themselves, having just killed two horses for
food. They had no other provisions excepting the seed of a weed
which they gather in great quantities, and pound fine. It
resembles hemp-seed. Mr. Hunt purchased a bag of it, and also
some small pieces of horse flesh, which he began to relish,
pronouncing them "fat and tender."
From these Indians he received information that several white men
had gone down the river, some one side, and a good many on the
other; these last he concluded to be Mr. Crooks and his party. He
was thus released from much anxiety about their safety,
especially as the Indians spoke about Mr. Crooks having one of
his dogs yet, which showed that he and his men had not been
reduced to extremity of hunger.
As Mr. Hunt feared that he might be several days in passing
through this mountain defile, and run the risk of famine, he
encamped in the neighborhood of the Indians, for the purpose of
bartering with them for a horse.
