Dec. 4th. We had prepared ourselves to start west this day; but it rained from early dawn to dark, which confined us closely to our cabin. Rain is one of the greatest annoyances to the woodsman. Generally, he has no shelter against it, and must sit in it, ride in it, or walk in it. Where there is no shelter, the two latter are preferable. But, as we had a split-board roof, we kept close, and busied ourselves with more perfect preparations for our next sally. I had some minerals that admitted of being more closely and securely packed, and gladly availed myself of the opportunity to accomplish it. Our foot and leg gear, also, required renovating. Experience had been our best teacher from the first; and hunger and danger kept us perpetually on the qui vive, and made us wise in little expedients.
FOOTNOTE:
[8] Elision of Pettibone.
CHAPTER VII.
PROCEED WEST—BOG OUR HORSE—CROSS THE KNIFE HILLS—REACH THE UNICA, OR WHITE RIVER—ABANDON THE HORSE AT A HUNTER'S, AND PROCEED WITH PACKS—OBJECTS OF PITY—SUGAR-LOAF PRAIRIE—CAMP UNDER A CLIFF—FORD THE UNICA TWICE—DESCEND INTO A CAVERN—REACH BEAVER RIVER, THE HIGHEST POINT OF OCCUPANCY BY A HUNTER POPULATION.
Dec. 5th. The rain ceased during the night, and left us a clear atmosphere in the morning. At an early hour we completed the package of the horse, and, taking the reins, I led him to the brink of the river, and with difficulty effected a passage. The cliffs which formed the western side of the valley, presented an obstacle not easily surmounted. By leading the animal in a zigzag course, however, this height was finally attained. The prospect, as far as the eye could reach, was discouraging. Hill on hill rose before us, with little timber, it is true, to impede us, but implying a continual necessity of crossing steeps and depressions. After encountering this rough surface about two miles, we came into a valley having a stream tributary to the Great North Fork of White river, which we had quitted that morning, but at a higher point. In this sub-valley we found our way impeded by another difficulty—namely, the brush and small canes that grew near the brook. To avoid this impediment, I took the horse across a low piece of ground, having a thicket, but which appeared to be firm. In this I was mistaken; for the animal's feet soon began to sink, and ere long he stuck fast. The effort to extricate him but served to sink him deeper, and, by pawing to get out, he continually widened the slough in which he had sunk. We then obtained poles, and endeavored to pry him up; but our own footing was continually giving way, and we at length beheld him in a perfect slough of soft black mud. After getting his pack off, we decided to leave him to his fate. We carried the pack to dry ground, on one side of the valley, and spread the articles out, not without deeply regretting the poor beast's plight. But then it occurred to us that, if the horse were abandoned, we must also abandon our camp-kettle, large axe, beds, and most of our camp apparatus; and another and concentrated effort was finally resolved on. To begin, we cut down two tall saplings, by means of which the horse was pried up from the bottom of the slough. He was then grasped by the legs and turned over, which brought his feet in contact with the more solid part of the ground. A determined effort, both of horse and help, now brought him to his feet. He raised himself up, and, by pulling with all our might, we brought him on dry ground. I then led him gently to our place of deposit, and, by means of bunches of sere grass, we both busied ourselves first to rub off the mud and wet, and afterwards to groom him, and rub him dry. When he was properly restored, it was found that he was able to carry his pack-saddle and pack; and he was led slowly up the valley about three miles, where we encamped. The grass in this little valley was of a nourishing quality, and by stopping early we allowed him to recruit himself. We did not estimate our whole distance this day at more than nine miles.
Dec. 6th. Butcher had improved his time well in the tender grass during the night, and presented a more spirited appearance in the morning. We were now near the head of Bogbrook, which we had been following; and as we quitted its sides, long to be remembered for our mishap, we began to ascend an elevated and bleak tract of the Mocama or Knife hills, so called, over which the winds rushed strongly as we urged our way. Few large trees were seen on these eminences, which were often bare, with a hard cherty footing, replaced sometimes by clusters of brambles and thickets. In one of these, a valuable couteau de chasse was swept from its sheath at my side, and lost. I was now reduced to a single knife, of the kind fabricated for the Indians, under the name of scalper. For a distance of sixteen miles we held on our way, in a west-south-west course, turning neither to the right nor left. As night approached, we found ourselves descending into a considerable valley, caused by a river. The shrubbery and grass of its banks had been swept by fire in the fall, and a new crop of grass was just rising. We formed our encampment in this fire-swept area, which afforded Butcher another benefit, and made some amends for his scanty fare among the bleak eminences of the Ozarks. This stream proved to be the Little North Fork of White river. We here despatched the last morsel of our turkey.
Dec. 7th. The ascent of the hills which bounded the valley on the south-west was found to be very difficult; and when the summit was reached, there spread before us an extensive prairie, of varied surface. Trees occasionally appeared, but were in no place so thickly diffused as to prevent the growth of a beautiful carpet of prairie grass. When we had gone about six miles, a bold mound-like hill rose on our left, which seemed a favorable spot for getting a view of the surrounding country. We had been told by the hunters that in travelling fifteen miles about west, we should reach a settlement at Sugar-loaf Prairie, on the main channel of the Unica or White river. But on reaching the summit of this natural look-out, we could descry nothing that betokened human habitation. As far as the eye could reach, prairies and groves filled the undulating vista. On reaching its foot again, where our horse was tied, we changed our course to the south, believing that our directions had been vague. We had gone about a mile in this direction, when we entered a faint and old horse-path. This gave animation to our steps. We pursued it about three miles, when it fell into another and plainer path, having the fresh tracks of horses. We were now on elevated ground, which commanded views of the country all around. Suddenly the opposite side of a wide valley appeared to open far beneath us, and, stepping forward the better to scan it, the river of which we were in search presented its bright, broad, and placid surface to our view, at several hundred feet below. We stood admiringly on the top of a high, rocky, and precipitous cliff. Instinctively to shout, was my first impulse. My companion, as he came up, also shouted. We had reached the object of our search.