“Shoshonies and Shoshokies—they air same Injuns made different by the way they live,” declared William New to Oliver. “You see, when they air rich an’ have hosses, like the Snakes, they call themselves Shoshonies; an’ when they air pore an’ miser’ble an’ go afoot, they air called Shoshokies. Out on the desert, west o’ hyar, these Root Diggers air so pore they wear a rabbit-skin for winter blanket, an’ they eat beetles an’ grass-hoppers an’ rats. Wagh! But they use p’isened arrows, an’ they’re wuss in a fight than bigger Injuns.”
As the march proceeded the water-fowl increased, until when disturbed they arose with fast flutter of wings that boomed like thunder. Soon the blind trail was cut by an impassible morass through which drained the water of the river. Here camp must be made. They decided that this was the mouth of the Bear, and that now the great lake began; but they could not see over the willows and rushes, they could not advance, and therefore they must turn back and seek better approach.
Ten days had passed since Henry Lee had left on the emigrant trail for Fort Hall, to carry word to Kit Carson. Kit had not come, and some of the men were beginning to grumble over the lack of provisions. To be sure, for the last two or three days there had been plenty of ducks and geese and plover; but the birds were wild and to hunt them down, in the marshes, was hard work. Why didn’t Carson get in, with grub? Maybe he wasn’t coming at all; maybe he was lost, or the Injuns had stampeded him.
“You fellows don’t know Kit,” reproved Ike. “He’ll come, straight an’ quick, if he got the word.”
“With me, Carson and truth are the same thing,” asserted Lieutenant Frémont. “I have found that you can depend on him absolutely.”
And hurrah! This very morning, as the camp was packing to turn back, in rode Kit, with a pack-animal.
He had done the best that he could, but he had brought only a little flour, and a moderate quantity of lesser provisions.
“Fitzpatrick hadn’t come in, yet,” announced Kit; “but the fort’s alive with emigrants. They’ve all collected thar, holding a pow-wow, whether to go on with their wagons an’ cattle, or with packs. Jest as I left, that man Whitman arrived, from down the trail, an’ he war making a speech, telling ’em he’d take ’em through, wagons an’ all, or bust. Anyway, they’ve stripped the post o’ supplies.”
All were glad to see Kit again; and he was eager to see the lake. The new trail wound along the bases of the range of hills on the east, until it turned into a gorge or canyon from which issued a river—the Weber River, with sparkling current flowing rapidly between high wooded banks. The cavalcade left the trail, and followed the river, for the mystic lake.