Its water, like that of the Arkansa, and its northern tributaries, when not swelled by rains, is of a greenish [26] colour. This colouring is sometimes so intense in the rivers of this region as to suggest the idea that the water is filled with minute confervas or other floating plants, but when we see it by transmitted light, as when a portion of it is held in a glass vessel, the colour disappears.
Three and a half miles below the confluence of the North Fork is a remarkable rock, standing isolated in the middle of the river, like the Grand Tower in the Mississippi. It is about twenty-five feet high, and fifty or sixty in diameter, and its sides so perpendicular as to render the summit inaccessible. It appears to have been broken from a high promontory of gray sandstone overhanging the river on the north side.
Not being able to find grass for pasture, we rode later than usual, and were finally compelled to encamp on a sandy beach, which afforded nothing but rushes for our horses.
September 8th. The quantity of water in the river had now become so considerable as to impede our descent along the bed; but the valley was narrow, and so filled with close and entangled forests, and the uplands so broken and rugged, that no other path appeared to remain for us. We therefore continued to make our way, though with great difficulty, and found our horses much incommoded by being kept almost constantly in the water, as we were compelled to do to cross from the point of a sand-bar on one side the river, to the next on the other. Quicksands also occurred, and in places where we least expected it, our horses and ourselves were thrown to the earth without a moment's notice. These sudden falls, occasioned by sinking in the sand, and the subsequent exertion necessary to extricate themselves, proved extremely harassing to our jaded horses, and we had reason to fear that these faithful servants would fail us almost at the end of our journey.
[27] Above the falls, the width of the river, that is of the space included between its two banks, varies from three hundred yards to two miles; below it is uniformly narrower, scarce exceeding four hundred yards. The beaches are sloping, and often covered with young cotton-wood or willow trees. In the Missouri, Mississippi, and to some extent in the Arkansa and its tributaries, the islands, sand-bars, and even the banks, are constantly shifting place. In the progress of these changes, the young willows and cotton-wood trees which spring up wherever a naked beach is exposed, may be supposed to have some agency, by confining the soil with their roots, and arresting the dirt and rubbish in times of high water. On the Missouri, the first growth which springs up in these places, is so commonly the willow, that the expressions "willow-bar" and "willow-island" have passed into the language of the boatmen, and communicate the definite idea of a bar, or an island recently risen from the water. These willows become intermixed with the cotton-wood, and these trees are often almost the exclusive occupants of extensive portions of the low grounds. The foliage of the most common species of willow (S. angustata) is of a light green colour, and, when seen under certain angles, of a silvery gray, contrasting beautifully with the intense and vivid green of cotton-wood.[84] Within a few yards of the spot where we halted to dine, we were so fortunate as to find a small log canoe made fast on shore. From its appearance we were assured it had been some months deserted by its rightful owner; and from the necessity of our situation, thought ourselves justified in seizing and converting it to our use. Our pack-horses had become much weakened, and reduced by long fatigue; and in crossing the river, as we had often to do, we felt that our collections, the only valuable part of our baggage, were constantly exposed to the risk of being wetted. We accordingly made prize of the [28] canoe, and putting on board our packs and heavy baggage, manned it with two men, designing that they should navigate it down to the settlements. Aside from this canoe, we discovered in the adjoining woods the remains of an old camp, which we perceived had been occupied by white men, and saw other convincing proofs that we were coming near some inhabited country.
We halted at evening in a small prairie on the north side of the river, the first we had seen for some time. The difficulties of navigation, arising from the shallowness of the water, prevented the arrival of the canoe and baggage until a late hour. The men had been compelled to wade a great part of the way, and drag the canoe over the sand.
September 9th. We had proceeded a mile or two from our encampment, when we discovered a herd of twenty or thirty elk, some standing in the water, and some lying upon the sand-beach, at no great distance before us. The hunters went forward, and singling out one of the finest bucks, fired upon him, at which the whole herd plunged into the thicket, and disappeared instantly. We had, however, too much confidence in the skill of the hunter to doubt but his shot had been fatal, and several of the party dismounting, pursued the herd into the woods, where they soon overtook the wounded buck. The noble animal, finding his pursuers at his heels, turned upon the foremost, who saved himself by springing into a thicket which the elk could not penetrate, but in which he soon became entangled by his enormous antlers, and fell an easy victim. His head was enveloped in such a quantity of cissus smilax and other twining vines, that scarce the tips of his horns could be seen; thus blind-folded, he stood until most of those who had followed into the woods had discharged their pieces, and did not finally yield up his life until he was stabbed to the heart with a knife. He was found in excellent condition, having more than two inches [29] of fat on the brisket. The meat was carried to the river, and deposited on a projecting point of rocks, with a note addressed to the men who were behind with the canoe, directing them to add this supply of provisions to their cargo.
At this point, and again at an inconsiderable distance below, a soft green slaty sandstone forms the bed of the river, and occasions a succession of rapids. At noon an observation by the meridian altitude of the sun's lower limb gave us 35° 30′, as an approximation to our latitude. This was much greater than we had anticipated from the position assigned to Red river on the maps, and tending to confirm the unpleasant fears we had entertained of having mistaken some tributary of the Arkansa for the Red river.
Thick and extensive cane brakes occurred on both sides of the river, and though the bottoms were wide and covered with heavy forests, we could see at intervals the distant sandstone hills, with their scattered forests of cedar and oak.
September 10th. We left our camp at the usual hour, and after riding eight or ten miles, arrived at the confluence of our supposed Red river with another of a much greater size, which we at once perceived to be the Arkansa. Our disappointment and chagrin at discovering the mistake we had so long laboured under, was little alleviated by the consciousness that the season was so far advanced, our horses and our means so far exhausted, as to place it beyond our power to return and attempt the discovery of the sources of the Red river. We had been misled by some little reliance on the maps, and the current statements concerning the position of the upper branches of Red river, and more particularly by the confident assurance we had received from the Kaskaia Indians, whom we did not suspect of a wish to deceive us in an affair of such indifference to them. Knowing there was a degree of ambiguity and confusion in the nomenclature of the rivers, we had insisted [30] particularly on being informed, whether the river we were descending was the one on which the Pawnee Piquas had their permanent residence, and this we were repeatedly assured was the case. Several other circumstances, which have been already mentioned, led us to the commission of this unfortunate mistake.