There are five or six of these springs, from which water bubbles up so hot that one may boil meat in it without need of fire, and when I said as much to Susan's mother, she was inclined to think I would make sport of her; therefore she boldly plunged her hand in, with the result that every part of the skin which came in contact with the water was reddened to the point of being blistered.

That night we boiled some pemmican[1] in one of the springs, and the girls of the party amused themselves by making up balls of meal dough and lowering them into the water by strands of plaited grass, cooking them as dumplings are cooked in a stew of meat.

When we camped at Portneuf Crossing, mother told us the story of the trapper Portneuf, who was murdered at this place by the Indians, and spoke in such a tragic manner that even John Mitchell was impressed by the brutal details. When I made the rounds of the camp before going to sleep, I took note that none of the men were inclined to move around alone outside the rays of light cast by the camp fires, and he whose turn it was to stand watch, had with him a companion, much as though he was afraid to remain without a comrade near at hand in a place where such an evil deed had been done.

[1]A prepared meat carried by all travelers over the Oregon trail.

THE FALLS OF THE SNAKE RIVER

Next day, after a march of fourteen miles, we came to the American Falls of the Snake River, and supper was long delayed because all the women and girls were lost in wonder and surprise at the beautiful scene. I told them that the Snake River flows over three immense cataracts, the American, the Shoshone, and Salmon Falls, one quite as awe-inspiring as the other.

We slept that night with the roaring of the cataract drowning all other noises, and next morning we were as wet as if we had been exposed to a smart shower. The wind had changed about midnight, and the spray from the falls was blown into the tents as well as under the wagon covers, until we were so uncomfortable that sleep left us at an early hour.