The following day (the 18th) led us through the remarkable valley of the Mauvaises Terres. Unfortunately we had, on this day, a bleak cold wind on our backs, which frightened away the numerous bighorns, elks, and many herds of buffaloes that were grazing on both sides of the river, in the little prairies covered with artemisia, at the foot of the steep, bare eminences. The wind enabled them to scent our approach at a considerable distance, as soon as our boat got into a bend of the river, and we often landed in vain to add to our stock of provisions. On this occasion we had many amusing scenes. A herd of twelve elks passed the river before us; the last was a large stag with colossal horns, this being the rutting season of these animals. The herds of buffaloes were sometimes thrown into the greatest confusion and consternation when we came too near them: they galloped along the bank, and when they were tired of this, they turned into a lateral ravine, where we saw these heavy animals ascend the high steep mountains. It often appeared inconceivable how these colossal masses could make their way up the steep naked walls. Sometimes, however, they were obliged to turn back, and we intercepted the only way to the river. They were then frequently compelled to gallop along the narrow beach near to our boat, which, being carried rapidly down the stream, gave us frequent opportunities of overtaking them, and we might easily have killed several of them, but, as they were almost all bulls, we let them escape unmolested.[136]
About ten o'clock we lay to, on the north bank, at a wild prairie, benumbed by the cold wind, and warmed ourselves. Among the Canadian pines the note of the little tree frog was still very loud in this cold weather. At two in the afternoon we reached the mouth of Winchers Creek, near which a large herd of buffaloes was grazing; in fact, we had seen, on this day, many thousands of these animals in the Mauvaises Terres, where, as we went up the river, all was still and dead. This was a sign that there were no Indians in these parts; they had, doubtless, been hunting in the prairies, and driven these animals away. We saw everywhere buffaloes in herds, or in small parties, which gave much variety to our voyage. As we were rapidly carried down by the current, in a turn of the river, we suddenly saw a herd of at least 150 buffaloes, quite near to us, standing on a sand bank in the river. The bulls, bellowing, drove the cows along; many were in motion, {291} and some standing and drinking. It was a most interesting scene. My people laid aside their oars, and let the boat glide noiselessly along within a short rifle-shot of the herd, which took no notice of us, doubtless taking our boat for a mass of drifting timber. Scarcely sixty paces further down, there was, on a sand bank, a troop of six elks, with a large stag, which covered one of the animals three times in our presence. We saw him lay his horns on his back when he uttered his singular whistling cry.[137] A stag, which stood on the steep bank, 100 paces lower down, at length got scent of us, and galloped away, which made the elks and buffaloes aware that an enemy was near, on which they all took flight with the utmost precipitation. Mr. Bodmer has given a very faithful representation of this scene.[138] The great number of wild animals, buffaloes, elks, bighorns, and antelopes, which we saw on this day, afforded us much entertainment. We checked, on this occasion, our sporting propensities, that we might be able better to observe those interesting animals, in which we perfectly succeeded.
We had reached Lewis and Clarke's Tea Island, to which we had given the name of Elk Island, and where, on our voyage up, we had found plenty of game. I landed Morrin and Dreidoppel on the upper end, to go in quest of game: the rest of us proceeded down towards the lower end, where we stopped to cook. Buffaloes and elks had crossed the river before us, and we heard the noise they made in the water at a considerable distance. The island was covered with lofty trees, and, in many places, with tall plants, especially artemisia, but had many grassy and open spots, and we found on it five buffaloes, and several troops of elks and Virginian deer. A white wolf looked at us from the opposite bank, and the great cranes flew slowly and heavily before us. Our fire soon blazed in the forest, and Morrin brought in some game, which afforded us a good supper. While it was getting ready, we rambled about the island, and heard in all directions the bellowing of the buffalo bulls, and the whistling of the elks. I found the rutting places of the latter in the high grass, but soon returned to the fire, as the cry of the owl warned us of the approach of night. On consideration we judged this place to be ill suited for our night's quarters, as we might easily have been surprised by the Indians; we, therefore, went on board again, as soon as the meat was dressed, and continued our voyage, in the bright moonlight, till near nine o'clock. The evening was warm and pleasant. We often heard the noise made by the buffaloes crossing the river. The forests on the bank to the right and left resounded with the whistling of the elks, alternating with the howling of the wolves; and the shrill cry of the owl completed the nocturnal chorus of the wilderness. Our blankets and buffalo robes, which were still wet, froze during the night, as we had lain down on the strand by the river-side, where we had a cold, uncomfortable {292} couch. The manner in which we passed these nights was not calculated to afford any very refreshing sleep; for, to be ready, in case of alarm, we could never venture to undress, but lay down in a buffalo skin and a blanket, and the same to cover us, with our loaded guns under the blanket to keep them dry. We were pretty safe from a surprise, two persons always keeping watch, relieved every two hours.
On the 19th of September we set out early: a fog rose from the river, and we sat wrapped up in our cloaks, quite benumbed with cold, while the whistling cry of the elks was heard all around us. Five females of this species, followed by a proud stag, swam through the river before us; we fired too soon, on which the stag turned round; the animals came near us, and thereby afforded an opportunity to fire with effect; one of the animals was wounded, but proceeded on its way, and we did not get possession of it. At the moment, when the other animals sought to reach the bank, another noble stag appeared, which stopped at the distance of fifty paces, and uttered a loud cry. I quickly threw off my cloak, and took my rifle; but at that moment my pilot, Morrin, fired his long piece, and the stag fell. We immediately lay to, ascended the steep bank, and were astonished at finding a most magnificent stag of twenty antlers stretched on the ground. I immediately took the measure of the gigantic animal, and found the horns, from the head to the point of the uppermost antler, in a straight line, four feet one inch; the weight of both horns, sawn off at the head, was twenty-six pounds. The colour of the stag in this autumnal season was very beautiful: the whole body of a pale yellowish brown; the head, neck, the under side of the belly and extremities, a dark blackish-brown, which looked very handsome, especially at a distance. We soon had an excellent fire in the thick forest, which revived our chilled limbs. Breakfast was quickly got ready, and the enjoyment of it was much enhanced by our success. The stag was cut up, and the beautiful skin prepared entire for the zoological collection,[139] which gave us full employment till dinner-time. Meantime our beds and other baggage, which had been wetted by the rain, were dried, the sun shining pretty bright.
When our work was finished, the boat was again loaded, and we put off from the bank. After the shot we had fired, the cry or whistle of the elks had ceased; but we saw several of those animals, and also buffaloes, flying in different directions. A little lower down we saw the fine deer killed by Dreidoppel, hanging on the drift-wood, but the stream carried us too rapidly for us to think of taking it. We often saw the black water-hen (Fulica Americana) and the magpie; and wounded some buffaloes, but did not stop to take them, because they did not immediately fall. Soon after four in the afternoon, the stags began again to whistle, and, amidst this strange concert, we came, after five o'clock, to the place where we had fastened to a tree in the forest {293} the skeleton of the bear shot by Doucette. I landed full of hopes, and we proceeded into the thick, shady forest; but, alas! not a trace of the skeleton was to be found, except a few fragments of bone. The surrounding bushes and the high grass had been trodden down by the wolves and bears, the rope had been torn, the skeleton pulled down, and it had wholly vanished. The marks of the bears' claws were evident on the bark of the tree, and all our searching in the solitude of this forest was fruitless; we found nothing, and my hopes were entirely disappointed. We had the same ill fortune with some bears' heads which we had left a little further down; and I now regretted that I had not kept those interesting specimens. When evening came, bats flew about over the river, and eagles and falcons appeared on the bank. As soon as twilight commenced, we proceeded softly and cautiously down the river. Our boat glided noiselessly along, while profound silence, which was seldom interrupted, reigned in the extensive wilderness that surrounded us, and in the dark forests on the banks. Man naturally seeks and takes pleasure in the sight of his fellows; but we were very glad that there were no human beings here besides ourselves. We continued our voyage for a long time by moonlight; but the dark shadows of the banks were dangerous, for the water dashed and foamed against the visible and invisible snags, which it required the greatest care to avoid. It was fortunate for us that Morrin was a very good pilot, who was well acquainted with the Missouri. We passed the night on the flat sandy beach, where we might have been betrayed by the disagreeable roaring of our bears. Those who kept watch had the pleasure of seeing a fine aurora borealis, which continued for half an hour in all its splendour.
On the following morning (the 20th of September), we were again benumbed with cold. Very early we saw a large bear, which was pursued without success. A large herd of buffaloes being found in a favourable situation, Morrin and Dreidoppel landed to approach them behind the willow thickets, and they succeeded in killing two fat cows, which furnished us with an ample supply of excellent meat. The immense horns of an elk, fixed at the head of the boat, the sixteen antlers of which were all hung with joints of meat, had a singular appearance. These provisions sometimes procured us a visit from the forward magpies, which, without the least shyness, perched on the stern of the boat, and uttered their note, which is quite different from that of the European magpie. This magpie is a droll bird, much more so than those of Europe, and often diverted us by its impertinence. We saw some numerous flocks of small birds setting out on their autumnal migration, and I observed, among others, a flock of the beautiful blue-finch (Fring. amoena), which flew across the river. At noon we lay to at an old poplar grove to prepare our dinner. Buffaloes and elks were very numerous at this place, and we might have shot several of them had we not thought it prudent to avoid all unnecessary noise. After we had enriched our collections, at some places on the bank, with very beautiful impressions of shells, all of which were, unfortunately, lost in the sequel, I lay to for the night about a mile above the {294} mouth of Muscleshell River. Here, too, there were numbers of impressions of shells and baculites, of which we collected a great many. Having reached Muscleshell River early the next morning (the 21st of September), I stopped, in order to look for the remarkably large horns of an elk, which Mr. Mitchell had seen here the year before, and found to measure above five feet. Accompanied by Dreidoppel, I went two miles up the river, which was narrow and shallow; its banks were thickly grown with poplars, and the bones of buffaloes and elks were everywhere scattered about. We followed a path trodden by the buffaloes along the bank of the river. A small prairie, covered with artemisia and sarcobatus, joined the chain of hills beyond the forest. This was the place where the great stag's horns had lain, but we did not find them. A little further on, a high steep wall formed the right bank of the river, and here we found a great number of those animal remains of the ancient world, to which the name of baculites has been given, and which are met with in most parts near the Upper Missouri. We returned to our boat, loaded with these valuable specimens, and immediately continued our voyage. Provisions were soon obtained from a numerous herd of buffaloes standing on the bank: a shot from our boat killed a calf. We immediately lay to, and, following the bloody trace, found the animal dead in the grove of poplars. It was of a dark brown colour, the nose and muzzle rather lighter; its horns were just sprouting. Our firing, and the smell of the meat while breakfast was preparing, immediately attracted the wolves. We soon heard them howling in the vicinity, and, in a short time, saw them assembling on a sand bank on the other side of the river. Twelve of them, of different colours and sizes, had galloped up on hearing the shot, stopped a moment and looked at us, then turned back for a short distance, lay down or seated themselves, and entertained us with a concert of their sweet voices. Some of them were quite white, others rather grey on the back, many very old and corpulent, others small, young, and slender.
We left this place about nine o'clock, and, with the help of my skilful pilot, passed, without accident, some parts of the river which were full of snags. The foliage of the poplar woods was now quite yellow, especially that of the young trees. A few swallows were still to be seen; the red-tailed woodpecker and the magpie were frequent in these parts. We saw some very large male elks, many Virginian deer, and buffaloes; some of the latter were rolling on their backs in the parched prairie, making the dust fly in clouds. Numbers of wolves were seen the whole day, doubtless attracted by the scent of the pieces of meat that were hung up about the boat. Herds of buffaloes were likewise met with, which we often overtook as they were swimming in the river, but did not fire at them; there were also large troops of elks, among which were some stags of extraordinary size. This great abundance of wild animals was a very satisfactory proof to us that the Indians were at a distance from this part of the river. The weather had been, on the whole, very favourable; on this day it had been very warm, but the evening was rather cool. The people laid aside their oars, and suffered the boat to drift down the stream. A solemn silence {295} prevailed in the vast solitary wilderness, where Nature, in all her savage grandeur, reigned supreme. Not a breath of air was stirring; buffaloes were quietly grazing on the sides of the hills, and even my bears lay still, after a fresh bed of poplar branches had been made for them: nobody spoke a word; it seemed as if we were involuntarily led by the impressions made by the scene, at the solemn evening hour, to give way to serious contemplation, for which there was ample matter. It was our constant caution to let our boat glide silently along in the evening, because it was necessary, at that time, to be more on our guard against the Indians, who are said, generally, to return to their tents in the evening. We passed to-day, after dark, the White Castles, which have been mentioned before, and much regretted not having once more seen these extraordinary formations, below which we lay to. We enjoyed a remarkably fine, quiet moonlight night.
Our voyage, early the following morning (22nd of September), was very pleasant and interesting. A herd of buffaloes raised a great cloud of dust in their flight, and it seemed that they must be pursued by the Indians. Kingfishers, which we had not seen in our progress up the river, were now pretty numerous on all these banks; and when we lay to at eight o'clock to get our breakfast ready, the note of the little tree frog, with which I did not become acquainted, was heard among the wormwood bushes. We often passed what are called Indian forts, and our people generally looked very anxiously to see if they were occupied, which, luckily for us, was nowhere the case. My Canadians were so timid that they did not venture to speak loud, and, if we stopped for a moment, they testified, by their restless gestures, their apprehensions and their impatience. At half-past eleven o'clock, between Muscleshell and Milk Rivers, we passed the Half-way Pyramid,[140] which lay to the south of us. During the whole day we saw many buffaloes and elks, and a skunk on the bank, which escaped us, and a small flock of the hooping crane, one of the finest birds of North America, which was on its flight to warmer regions. The moon shone with extraordinary splendour when we lay to for the night, while the howling of the wolves and the whistle of the elks were heard all around. At half-past nine there was a fine aurora borealis, at first obscured by clouds, then blazing up, and coruscating, in lofty columns. The night was not disagreeably cool, and the following morning (the 23rd) was fine and pleasant; but so violent a wind soon arose, that we were compelled to lie to at the prairie near a poplar wood. We took this opportunity of drying our damp baggage in the wind, setting a watch in the prairie, that we might not be surprised by the Indians. During this time a great bear came out of the willow bushes, and swam directly towards us, across the river; we had already posted ourselves behind some trees to receive him with a volley at his coming on shore, when, perhaps, he perceived the smell of our boat, lying near the bank, and, to our no small chagrin, quietly turned back. He had scarcely reached the thicket on the other side, when a large male elk appeared at the same place, and continued, for a long time, to graze undisturbed. {296} In the prairie near us no other animals were seen, except large grasshoppers, two inches long, which had black wings edged with white; at first we took them for butterflies, but those more delicate flower hunters had already disappeared before the breath of autumn. It was not till five o'clock that the wind abated so as to allow us to proceed. We were entertained by the loud whistle of the elks, many of which were lying in the river to cool themselves. Morrin wounded a young deer at a great distance, and we immediately saw a wolf go after it, which, doubtless, soon put an end to the poor animal. Our bivouac for the night was lighted by an aurora borealis, which occurred almost every evening, the weather at the same time being warm and pleasant.
We reached the mouth of Big-Dry River by eight o'clock the next morning, just after we had shot from our boat a male elk, of twelve branches, whose horns we took away, but were obliged, to our great regret, to leave the carcase for the wolves. We saw herds of antelopes, and numerous flocks of prairie hens, which were sitting on the snags in the river. Autumn had already tinged the foliage with various colours. We did not indeed see here the scarlet stag's-horn sumach (Rhus typhinum), but a couple of other species of that genus were, in some degree, substitutes for that colour. At half past two in the afternoon, we passed near the mouth of Milk River, where we remarked great numbers of bears, elks, deer, and wolves on the bank, and some wild geese and sandpipers on the strand. At the place where we killed the three bears, on our voyage up the river, we now found numerous elks; magpies, blackbirds, and the great prairie larks abounded. We saw to-day several beaver dens, and counted twenty-seven in all from Fort Mc Kenzie to Fort Union. Early on the following morning, the 25th of September, we passed the Riviére Bourbeuse.[141] Morrin had just before shot a very fat elk, which afforded us a good breakfast, so that we did not leave this place till eleven o'clock. Towards three o'clock such a violent storm arose, that we hastened to secure our heavily-laden boat on the bank, behind a snag: this was 400 or 500 paces from the spot where the keel-boat was wrecked the year before. The bank was very steep, and on the summit there was a wood of poplars with an undergrowth of symphoria. The storm increased in violence to such a degree that it seemed as if it would throw down the trees on our heads; and it brought clouds of dust from the opposite sand banks into our forest, so that the air was darkened. Sparrowhawks, ravens, crows, and blackbirds, took refuge in the recesses of the forest; a herd of antelopes had also sought protection at the skirts of the wood, and we observed the buck pursue and drive back any of the females that attempted to leave the herd. We built ourselves a fort in the Indian fashion, of trunks of trees and branches, where we took up our lodging for the night, when we could scarcely hear the cry of the elks or the growling of a bear for the roaring of the storm. Towards morning, on the 26th, the storm abated, and allowed us to proceed on our voyage, so that by daybreak we reached Mr. Mitchell's Petit Fort, of which the prairie hens had taken possession.[142] Swans and ducks (Anas boschas et sponsa) {297} animated the river, and flocks of the little finch were flying about on the bank. In the evening we had a heavy rain, and our bivouac was very uncomfortable; after mounting guard for a couple of hours, we had to lie down under our buffalo skins and blankets, which were wet through, and rose in the morning thoroughly chilled and benumbed.
About eleven in the morning of the 27th of September, we reached the Prairie à la Corne de Cerf.[143] The sky was overcast, the weather very cool, and about noon it began to rain so heavily, that we lay to at a lofty wood to seek for shelter, but were soon wet through while we were erecting a slight wooden covering against the torrents of rain, which we covered with our skins and blankets. Of half a dozen deer which we met with in the neighbourhood we killed one, the flesh of which refreshed and strengthened us. The unfavourable weather continued till midnight, and the storm till the morning of the 28th of September, when our thoroughly soaked effects were brought on board about nine o'clock, and we continued our voyage. The wind blew bleak and unpleasant the whole day: we saw many kingfishers on the bank, and on the shoals in the river, the avoset (Recurvirostra Americana), which, with its strange, turned-up bill, sought its food in the mud, or the shallow water. We soon came to the rude, apparently desolate chain of hills that extends to Fort Union, proceeded till one o'clock in the morning, and then, cold and benumbed, lay to at a sand bank, when those especially whose turn it was to keep watch had no very enviable lot. Cranes awoke at the same time as we did, early in the morning of the 29th, and rose with loud cries in the misty air. We were stiff with cold, till the sun, as he rose higher in the heavens, warmed us a little. About nine o'clock we lay to at the sandy coast before the forest, on the south bank, kindled a fire, and prepared breakfast—a blessing which only those can appreciate, who, like us, have been long exposed to bad weather, cold, wet, storms, and privations of every kind. It was high time for us to reach Fort Union, for our most necessary provisions were exhausted, and, in another day, we should have been deprived of the comfort of coffee, which we should have felt more than all the rest. A large deer but lately had his lair very near us, and, perhaps, we had disturbed him; we, however, had no time at present to go in pursuit of him, for it was necessary to arrange our dress, which was completely disordered, and make ourselves a little decent, before we could show ourselves in society. The business of the toilet took us no little time; so that it was twelve o'clock before we could set out for Fort Union, where we arrived safe at one o'clock, after an absence of about three months.