As Indians had been seen in the afternoon, and we were aware of their being still in our neighbourhood, it was thought proper to stake the horses as near as possible to the camp, and to station two sentinels, who were to be relieved during the night.
In our encampment we observed the following order. The three tents were pitched in a right line, all fronting in the same direction. In advance of these, at the distance of four feet, our baggage was arranged in six heaps, one at the right, and one at the left of the entrance to each tent, and protected from {119} the weather by bear-skins thrown over them. This disposition was made, not only for the convenience of the party, but that our baggage, in case of an attack of the Indians, might serve as a kind of breast-work, behind which we might be, in some measure, sheltered from danger. At any rate, having our baggage thus arranged, we should know where to find it, and where to rally, in any emergency by day or night.
On the ensuing morning, (8th,) we continued our journey along the north side of the valley of the Platte, at the distance of four or five miles from the river, the direction of our course south, 85° west, which we followed near twenty miles.
In all our marches we observed the following order. Capt. Bell, mounted on a horse whose gait was regular and uniform, and well calculated for the estimation of distances, preceded the party, attended by our guide.—The soldiers and attendants, formed into two squads, for the better management of the pack-horses, followed in single file.—The scientific gentlemen occupied any part of the line that best suited their convenience.—Major Long followed in the rear, for the purpose of superintending the readjustment of deranged packs, and urging any disposed to linger, to the observance of a close order of march, a duty attended with no inconsiderable trouble and perplexity. Though our route lay at the distance of several miles from the Platte, we could distinctly see the narrow and interrupted line of timber which grows along its course, and occasionally we had a transient view of the river itself, spreading like an expansive lake, and embosoming innumerable islands. About eighteen miles from our encampment, our course led us into the valley of a small river, called La petite Coquille or Muscleshell Creek,[77] which we ascended six miles, not deviating from the course we had taken. In the middle of the day we encountered a violent thunder-storm without dismounting {120} from our horses. The plain about us, for a great distance, was destitute of timber, and so level that our party formed the most prominent object in an extent of several miles. It is not surprising that, in this situation, we were a little startled at seeing the lightning strike upon the ground at the distance of two hundred yards from us. We could not have been deceived, in relation to this appearance, as we distinctly saw the water and mud thrown several feet into the air by the shock. The storm was so violent that, notwithstanding all our care, we could not prevent our baggage from being wet. We crossed the Coquille six miles above the place where it enters the valley of the Platte. This we effected with some difficulty, the banks being steep and muddy, and immediately afterwards encamped to dry our baggage.
The Coquille is about eight yards across; its bed muddy and the current moderate. Its course is circuitous, traversing some inconsiderable tracts of fertile and well wooded bottom land: in one of these our camp was placed. The night was warm and the mosquitoes swarming in inconceivable multitudes.
Our baggage had been wet on the preceding day, and again by a heavy shower in the night: as the morning was cloudy, we remained in camp for some time, and attempted to dry our clothes and blankets by a large fire. After breakfasting we again got upon our horses, and travelling nearly south-west, arrived in the afternoon at the valley of the Wolf river, or Loup fork of the Platte. This river is called by the Indians the Little Missouri, on account of its resemblance, in the velocity of its current, the turbidness of its waters, and other respects, to that river.
Its sources are in the country of the Poncaras, opposite those of the Quicurre.[78] Like the Platte, its {121} immediate valley is a broad and woodless plain, almost without any perceptible unevenness of surface, and bounded on each side by parallel ranges of low and barren hills.
During our ride, as we were approaching the Loup fork, we met two Pawnee Indians, handsomely mounted, and, as they informed us, on their way to dance the calumet dance with the Omawhaws. We gave them a small quantity of tobacco, and they departed, appearing highly pleased. In the fertile grounds, along the valley of the Loup fork, we observed several plants which we had not before seen: among these was one belonging to the family of the malvaceæ, with a large tuberous root which is soft and edible, being by no means ungrateful to the taste.[79] We observed also the downy spike of the rabbit's-foot plantain (plantago lagopus, Ph.) intermixed with the short grasses of the prairie. The long-flowered puccoon, (batschia longiflora, N.) a larger and more beautiful plant than the B. canescens is here frequent. As we proceed westward, some changes are observed in the character of the soil and the aspect of vegetation. The larkspurs and lichnedias, (species of phlox and delphinium, so common and beautiful in all the country between St. Louis and Council Bluff,) are succeeded by several species of milk vetch,[80] some vicias, and the superb sweet pea (lathyrus polymorphus). Every step of our progress to the west brought us upon a less fertile soil. We had as yet seen no game except a few antelopes, too wild and watchful to be taken without much trouble. In the low prairies we saw several curlews and marbled godwits, with their young; Bartram's sandpiper was also very frequent.
{122} A little before sunset we crossed Grape Creek,[81] a small and rapid stream of clear water, and soon after arrived at the Loup fork, where we encamped. The banks of this river are of a fine white sand, and are elevated no more than about eight feet above the surface of the stream, at a time of low water. It does not however appear that the low plains, contiguous to the Loup fork, are at any season inundated, the channel being sufficiently wide, and the current rapid enough to discharge all the water, which may at any time be brought down from above.
In the evening, and on the following morning, observations were taken to ascertain the magnetic variation, which was found to be 13½° east.