Having struck the Mississippi at the point where the prior narrative describes it (vide Chap XII.), it becomes unnecessary to give details of my descent to St. Anthony's Falls. Leaving Prairie Piercie on the 23d, two days were employed in the descent to Fort Snelling. I found Captain Wm. R. Jouett in command, who received me with courtesy and kindness, and offered every facility, in the absence of Mr. Talliaferro, the United States Indian Agent, for laying the object of my mission before the Sioux. He had received no very recent intelligence of the progress of the Sauc war, in addition to that which I had learned at the mouth of the De Corbeau; although he was in the habit of sending a mail boat or canoe twice a month to Prairie du Chien.[ [190]
On the 25th, being the day after my arrival, I met the assembled, Sioux, in council, at the Agency House, the commanding officer being present, and having finished that business, and finding the Sioux wholly unconnected with, and disapproving the proceedings of Blackhawk and his adherents, I embarked early the next morning on my return to Lake Superior. I reached the mouth of the River St. Croix, at three o'clock P. M. on the 26th, and having entered the sylvan sheet of Lake St. Croix, ascended it to within a few miles of its head, and encamped. Lieut. Allen did not reach my camp, but halted for the night some seven or eight miles short.[ [191] This lake is one of the most beautiful and picturesque sheets of water in the West, being from two to three miles wide, and some four-and-twenty or thirty in length.[ [192] The next morning I reached the head of the lake after a couple of hours of travel, and, by a diligent and hard day's work, during which we passed between perpendicular walls of sonorous trap-rock, reached and encamped at the falls of St. Croix, at eight o'clock in the evening.[ [193] We were now about fifty miles from the line of the Mississippi River. For the last few miles, there had been either a very strong current or severe eddies of water, around angular masses of trap-rock; and we were encamped at the precise foot of the falls, where the river, narrowed to some fifty feet, breaks its way through trap-rock, falling some fifty feet in the course of six hundred yards. We had been carried, at a tangent, from the great Mississippi series of the silurian period, beginning at St. Anthony's Falls, to the vitric formations of trap and greenstone of the Lake Superior system, and were now to ascend a valley, in which a heavy diluvial drift and boulder stratum rested on this broken and angular basis.[ [194] On reaching the summit of the St. Croix, there are found vast plateaux of sand, supporting pine forests; and on descending the Misakoda, or Brulé of Fond du Lac, the sandstone strata of that basin are again encountered. This ascent was rendered arduous, from the low state of the water. I reached Snake River on the 30th, had an interview with the Buffalo chief (Pezhikee) and his subordinates; finding the population 300, with thirty-eight half breeds. The men, while here, cut their feet, treading on the trap-rock debris, in the mouth of the river. The distance thence to Yellow River is about thirty-five miles, which we accomplished on the 31st, by eight o'clock in the morning, having found our greatest obstacle at the Kettle Rapids, which discloses sharp masses of the trap-rock. The river, in this distance, receives on its right, in the ascent, the Aisippi, or Shell River, which originates in a lake of that name, noted for its large unios and anadontas.
At Yellow River, I halted to confer with the Indians in front of a remarkable eminence called Pokunogun, or the Moose's Hip. This eminence is not, however, of artificial construction. This river, with its dependencies of Lac Vaseux, Rice Lake, and Yellow Lake, contains a Chippewa population of three hundred and eighty-two souls. We observed here the unio purpureus, which the Indians use for spoons, after rubbing off the alatæ and rounding the margin. We also examined the skin of the sciurus tredacem striatus of Mitchill.
We reached the forks of the St. Croix about two o'clock P. M. The distance from Yellow River is about thirteen miles; it required five and a half hours to accomplish this. The water was, indeed, so low, that the men had often to wade; and, on reaching this point, we were to lose half its volume, or more, for the Namakagun[ [195] fork, which enters here, carries in more than half the quantity of water.
I found the chief Kabamappa and his followers encamped at the forks, awaiting my arrival, who received me with a salute. He disclaimed all connection with the movement of the Blackhawk. He stated facts, however, which showed him to be well acquainted with the means which that chief had used to bring the Indians into an extensive league against the United States. He readily assented to the measures proposed to the upper bands, for bringing the Sioux and Chippewas into more intimate and permanent relations of peace and friendship.
With respect to the ascent of the St. Croix, in the direction of the Brulé, his exclamation was iskutta-iskutta, meaning it is dried up, or there is no water. Dry the channel, indeed, looked, but by leading the canoes around the shoals, all the men walking in the water, and picking out channels, we advanced about seven miles before the time of encampment. The next morning (Aug. 1) a heavy fog detained us in our encampment, till five o'clock, when we recommenced the ascent of a similar series of embarrassments from very low water, rapid succeeding to rapid, till two o'clock P. M., when we reached the summit of a plateau, and found still water and comparatively good navigation. Five hours canoeing on this summit brought us to Kabamappa's village at the Namakowágon, or sturgeon's dam, where we encamped. The chief gave us his population at 88 souls, of whom 28 were men, including the minor chief, Mukudapenas,[ [196] and his men. We had now got above all the strong rapids, and proceeded from our encampment at four o'clock, A. M., on the 2d. The river receives two tributaries, from the right hand, on this summit, namely, the Buffalo and Clearwater, and, at the distance of about ten miles above the Namakowágon, is found to be expanded in a handsome lake of about six miles in extent, called Lake St. Croix. This is the source of the river. We were favored with a fair wind in passing over it, and having reached its head debarked on a marshy margin, and immediately commenced the portage to the Brulé, or Misakoda River.[ [197]
I had now reached the summit between the St. Croix and Lake Superior. The elevation of this summit has not been scientifically determined; but from the great fall of the Brulé, cannot be less than 600 feet. The length of the Brulé is about 100 miles, in which there are 240 distinct rapids. Some of these are from eight to ten feet each. Four of them require portages, at which all the canoes are discharged. The river itself, on looking down it, appears to be a perfect torrent, foaming and roaring; and it could never be used by the traders at all, were it not that it had abundance of water, being the off-drain for an extensive plateau of lakes and springs. To give an adequate idea of this foaming torrent, it is necessary to conceive of a river flowing down a pair of stairs, a hundred miles long.
The portage from the St. Croix to it begins on marsh, ascending in a hundred yards or so, to an elevated sandy plain, which has been covered, at former times, with a heavy forest of the pinus resinosa; that having been consumed, there is left here and there a dry trunk, or auk, as the Indians call it. The length of the portage path is 3,350 yards, or about two miles. At this distance, we reach a small, sandy-bottomed brook, of four feet wide and a foot deep, of most clear crystalline cold water, winding its way, in a most serpentine manner, through a boggy tract, and overhung with dense alder bushes. It is a good place to slake one's thirst, but appears like anything else than a stream to embark on, with canoes and baggage. Nobody but an Indian would seem to have ever dreamed of it. Yet on this brook we embarked. It was now six o'clock in the evening. By going a distance below, and damming up the stream, a sufficient depth of water was got to float the canoes. The axe was used to cut away the alders. The men walked, guiding the canoes, and carrying some of the baggage. In this way we moved slowly, about one mile, when it became quite dark, and threatened rain. The voyageurs then searched about for a place on the bog dry enough to sleep on, and came, with joy, and told me that they had found a kind of bog, with bunches of grassy tufts, which are called by them tete de femme. The very poetry of the idea was something, and I was really happy, amid the intense gloom, to rest my head, for the night, on these fair tufts. The next morning we were astir as soon as there was light enough to direct our steps. After a few miles of these intricacies, we found a brisk and full tributary, below which, the descent is at once free, and on crossing the first narrow geologic plateau, the rapids begin; the stream being constantly and often suddenly enlarged, by springs and tributaries from the right and left. To describe the descent of this stream, in detail, would require graphic powers to which I do not aspire, and time which I cannot command. We were two days and a part of a night in making the descent, with every appliance of voyageur craft. It was after darkness had cast her pall over us, on the evening of the 4th of August, before we reached still water. The river is then a deep and broad mass of water, into which coasting vessels from the Lake might enter. Some four miles from the foot of the last rapids, it enters the Fond du Lac of Lake Superior. Some time before reaching this point, we had been apprised of our contiguity to it, from hearing the monotonous thump of the Indian drum; and we were glad, on our arrival, to find the chief, Mongazid,[ [198] of Fond du Lac, with the military barge of Lieut. Allen, left at that place on our outward trip, which he had promised to bring down to this point.
Having thus accomplished the objects committed to my trust, and rejoined the track described in my prior narrative, I rested here on the next day (5th), being the Sabbath; and then proceeded through Lake Superior, to my starting-point at Sault de Ste Marie.[ [199]