This gave them great uneasiness about Whitman, alone and without a shelter. They encountered some Indians who told them they had met a white man two days before who was hunting for Bent's Fort, and they had pointed out the way to him. They, in all haste, retraced their steps, along the way the Indians directed, and in an hour after they reached the fort Whitman came in greatly fatigued, and well-nigh despairing. But wearied as he was, he was deeply touched with Colonel Bent's kindness and thoughtfulness, and was buoyed up with new heart and hope that after all the hardships of the long journey he was yet able to prosecute it to the end. In the early morning he was in the saddle upon a fresh horse, with a good guide, and ready to ride forty miles before night to the camp on the Cottonwood, with credentials which would give them safe convoy to St. Louis. General Lovejoy, the guide, and all the stock remained until the next convoy was sent out in the spring, and found Whitman upon the Missouri border. In that early day the route from Bent's Fort to St. Louis was invested by bands of outlaws, as well as savage wild beasts, so that an escort of well-armed men was a necessity for all travelers. Thus a good Providence seemed from the outset to have guided the little band through all its perils in safety.
They Reach St. Louis
Dr. Barrows, in his interesting book, "Oregon, the Struggle for Possession," says:
"Upon the arrival of Whitman in St. Louis, it was my good fortune that he should be quartered as a guest under the same roof, and at the same table. Trappers and traders all eagerly asked questions, and he answered all courteously. He in turn asked about Congress; whether the Ashburton treaty had been passed by the Senate; and whether it covered the Northwestern Territory? He then learned, for the first time, that the Ashburton treaty had been signed, even before he left Oregon, and was confirmed by the Senate about the time he was lost and floundering in the snow upon the mountains."
He was eager to learn whether the Oregon question was still pending, and greatly relieved when told that the treaty only covered a little strip of twelve thousand acres, up in Maine, and that Oregon was left untouched in its boundaries. Dr. Barrows continues:
"Marcus Whitman once seen, and in one's family circle, telling of his business, for he apparently had but one, was a man not to be forgotten by the writer. He was of medium height, more compact than spare, a stout shoulder, and a large head covered with iron-gray hair. He carried himself awkwardly. He seemed built as a man for whom more stock had been furnished than used systematically and gracefully. He was not quick in motion or speech, and no trace of a fanatic, but he was a profound enthusiast. He wore coarse, fur garments, with buckskin breeches. He had a buffalo overcoat with a head hood for emergencies, with fur leggins and foot moccasins. If my memory is not at fault, his entire dress when on the street did not show an inch of woven fabric."
We copy thus fully Dr. Barrows's description of Whitman and his dress, and it agrees with other descriptions less complete, as we trace him to Cincinnati, and again to the door of his old cherished friend, Dr. Parker, and have the testimony of his son, Professor Parker, who opened the door of his father's home to admit the guest in strange costume. Whitman had little confidence in his own power of oratory, and was even timid, while brave. He knew the persuasive eloquence of his old associate, and his enthusiasm for Oregon, and he had hoped and expected to have his help to plead for Oregon in Washington. But the Doctor was confined to his room by ill health, and it was impossible for him to undertake the journey. Glad again to meet his old friend, and sorrowing that he was not to have his aid in this critical time, he resumed his way, and reaching Washington, ended one of the most memorable trans-continental journeys ever recorded.