[153] Brackenbridge's [Brackenridge's] Voyage up the Missouri River, p. 205.—Gregg.
Comment by Ed. See our volume vi, p. 153, note 54; also our volume v, pp. 191-194.
[154] James Logan was appointed agent among the Creeks shortly after their final removal to Indian Territory (about 1838), and was replaced about 1842.—Ed.
[155] Gregg probably takes this information from Pike's journals. In his edition thereof, Elliott Coues claims (ii, p. 733, note 18) that San Buenaventura River was a myth of this early period. Pike describes it as emptying into the Pacific north of California; but upon his map it runs into a nameless salt lake, and is probably to be identified with Sevier River.—Ed.
[156] A stranger would be led to suppose we were without a system of orthography, from the fact of our so generally adopting the French spelling of Indian names, whereby all sight is soon lost of the original. The French first corrupt them, and we, by adapting our pronunciation to their orthography, at once transform them into new names. Thus 'polite usage' has converted into Arkan´sas the plural of the primitive Arkansa or Arkonsah; though an approximate, Ar´kansaw, is still the current 'vulgar' pronunciation. Osage and a great many others have suffered similar metamorphoses.—Gregg.
[157] For the exploration of the sources of Red River, see our volume xvi, p. 85, note 52. Gregg would appear to be one of the first correctly to locate the headwaters of this stream.—Ed.
[158] Of all the rivers of this character, the Cimarron, being on the route from Missouri to Santa Fé, has become the most famous. Its water disappears in the sand and reappears again, in so many places, that some travellers have contended that it 'ebbs and flows' periodically. This is doubtless owing to the fact, that the little current which may flow above the sand in the night, or in cloudy weather, is kept dried up, in an unshaded channel, during the hot sunny days. But in some places the sand is so porous that the water never flows above it, except during freshets.
I was once greatly surprised upon encountering one of these sandy sections of the river after a tremendous rain-storm. Our caravan was encamped at the 'Lower Cimarron Spring:' and, a little after night-fall, a dismal, murky cloud was seen gathering in the western horizon, which very soon came lowering upon us, driven by a hurricane, and bringing with it one of those tremendous bursts of thunder and lightning, and rain, which render the storms of the Prairies, like those of the tropics, so terrible. Hail-stones, as large as turkeys' eggs, and torrents of rain soon drenched the whole country; and so rapidly were the banks of the river overflowed, that the most active exertions were requisite to prevent the mules that were 'staked' in the valley from drowning. Next morning, after crossing the neck of a bend, we were, at the distance of about three miles, upon the river-bank again; when, to our astonishment, the wetted sand, and an occasional pool, fast being absorbed, were the only vestiges of the recent flood—no water was flowing there!
In these sandy stretches of the Cimarron, and other similar 'dry streams,' travellers procure water by excavating basins in the channel, a few feet deep, into which the water is filtrated from the saturated sand.—Gregg.
[159] This is the shrub now known as Osage orange (Maclura aurantiaca).—Ed.