Our pleasure at first seeing civilized white men was of no ordinary kind; it appeared as though we had already arrived at our own homes and families, in anticipation of Belle Point, which had hitherto seemed the utmost boundary and terminus of our pilgrimage.
Wednesday, 6th. A fine morning, and, as on the days of the first instant, and 30th ultimo, no dew had fallen. Crossed the ravine at the head of Bayou Menard, and ascended the elevated hills, clothed with small oaks, and arrived at a branch of Greenleaf Bayou about nine o'clock; a distance of eight miles.[132]
A slight shower of rain fell in the afternoon; and during our ride we first observed the dogwood (cornus florida). In the evening, we arrived at Mr. Bean's salt works. These are situated on a small creek which flows into the Illinois creek about a mile below, and are at the distance of about seven miles from the Arkansa. Mr. Bean commenced his operations in the spring, and has already a neat farm-house on the Illinois, with a considerable stock of cattle, hogs, and poultry, and several acres in Indian corn. Near the springs he has erected a neat log-house, and a shed [119] for the furnace; but his kettles, which were purchased of the proprietors of the Neosho establishment, were not yet fixed. He assured us that the water was so far saturated as not to dissolve any perceptible quantity of a handful of salt that was thrown into it. On the side of a large well, which he had sunk to collect the salt water, and perhaps two feet from the surface of the soil, he pointed out the remains of a stratum of charcoal of inconsiderable extent, through which they had penetrated, and which to a by-stander was a certain proof that these springs had been formerly worked by the Indians. But as no other appearances justified this conclusion, a greater probability seems attached to the idea, that during some former conflagration of the prairies, the charred trunk or branches of a tree was here imbedded. Another agent, however, of sufficient efficacy to operate this carbonization of wood, resides in the sulphuric acid, liberated by the decomposing pyritous rocks, so abundant here.
Whilst waiting with a moderate share of patience for our evening meal of boiled pumpkins, one of the children brought us a huge hairy spider, which he carried upon a twig, that he had induced the animal to grasp with its feet. Its magnitude and formidable appearance surprised us. The boy informed us that he had captured it near the entrance of its burrow, and that the species is by no means rare in this part of the country. Not having any box suitable to contain it, nor any pin sufficiently large to impale it, we substituted a wooden peg, by which it was attached to the inside of a hat. This species so closely resembles, both in form, colour, and magnitude, the gigantic bird-catching spider of South America,[133] that from a minute survey of this specimen, which is a female, we cannot discover the slightest characteristic distinction. But as an examination of the male, [120] comparatively with that of the avicularia, may exhibit distinctive traits, we refrain from deciding positively upon the species. This animal had been previously mentioned by Mr. Nuttall, in his recent and interesting account of his travels in this region.[134] Distance, twenty-four miles.
Thursday, 7th. The Illinois is called by the Osages Eng-wah-condah, or Medicine Stone Creek. At our fording place near the Saline, it is about sixty yards wide, with clear water and pebbly shores, like those of the Neosho. We proceeded on, through a country wooded with small oaks, and interspersed with occasional small prairies, and crossed a deep ravine called Bayou Viande.[135] The Bayous, as they are named in this country, unlike those of the lower portion of the Mississippi river, are large and often very profound ravines or watercourses, which, during the spring season, or after heavy rains, receive the water from the surface of the prairies, and convey it to the river; but in the summer and early autumn, the sources being exhausted, the water subsides in their channels, occupying only the deeper parts of their bed, in the form of stagnant pools, exhaling miasmata to the atmosphere, and rendering their vicinity prejudicial to health.
The extreme temperature of the day was 93 degrees, but it was rather abruptly reduced by a strong wind from the S. E., which brought up a heavy rain, with much thunder and lightning, and continued to drench us until the evening, when, after a ride of fourteen miles, we encamped at Bayou Salaison or Meat-salting Bayou.[136] At our mid-day refectory, we were much annoyed by great numbers of small ticks, that were excessively abundant amongst the grass, and crawled by dozens up our leggings. Wherever they effected a lodgement upon the skin, their numerous punctures would cause an intolerable itching sensation, that bid defiance to repose. In the evening, in addition to the needful process of drying our [121] clothing and blankets, we had ample employment in scratching and picking the pestiferous arachnides from our bodies. On entering the water, the disagreeable sensation seemed to be mitigated for a time, only to be augmented on our return to the atmosphere. Mosquitoes, which were also abundant, were readily expelled from our tents by the smoke of burning wood; but the ticks, otherwise constituted, frustrated our endeavours to obtain the necessary rest and sleep during the night.
These ticks are of two different species, and, in common with other species inhabiting different parts of the United States, are distinguished by the name of seed ticks, probably on account of their small size when compared with others of the same genus.
The larger of the two kinds[137] may be compared, in point of transverse diameter, to the head of a small-sized pin; but the other one is so much smaller, as to elude the sight, except on minute inspection.
The Cherokee Indians frequently visit this vicinity on hunting excursions; and our guide informs us, that a hunting-party of that nation is at present situate at the mouth of this Bayou, at the distance of two miles and a half from our camp.