The Project Gutenberg eBook, Early Western Travels 1748-1846, Volume XXX, by Joel Palmer, Edited by Reuben Gold Thwaites

Early Western Travels

1748-1846

Volume XXX

Early Western Travels

1748-1846

A Series of Annotated Reprints of some of the best
and rarest contemporary volumes of travel, descriptive
of the Aborigines and Social and
Economic Conditions in the Middle
and Far West, during the Period
of Early American Settlement

Edited with Notes, Introductions, Index, etc., by

Reuben Gold Thwaites, LL.D.

Editor of "The Jesuit Relations and Allied Documents," "Original
Journals of the Lewis and Clark Expedition," "Hennepin's
New Discovery," etc.

Volume XXX

Palmer's Journal of Travels over the Rocky Mountains,
1845-1846

Cleveland, Ohio
The Arthur H. Clark Company
1906

Copyright 1906, by

THE ARTHUR H. CLARK COMPANY

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Lakeside Press
R. R. DONNELLEY & SONS COMPANY
CHICAGO

[CONTENTS OF VOLUME XXX]

[ILLUSTRATION TO VOLUME XXX]

[PREFACE TO VOLUME XXX]

In the wake of the pathfinders, fur-traders, Indian scouts, missionaries, scientific visitors, and foreign adventurers came the ultimate figure among early Western travellers, the American pioneer settler, the fore-runner of the forces of occupation and civilization. This concluding volume in our series is, therefore, fitly devoted to the record of an actual home-seeker, and founder of new Western communities.

The significant feature of American history has been the transplanting of bodies of colonists from one frontier to a newer frontier. In respect to the Oregon country, our interest therein is enhanced not only by the great distance and the abundant perils of the way, but also by the political result in securing the territory to the United States, and the growth of a prosperous commonwealth in the Far Northwest corner of our broad domain. In several previous volumes of our series we have witnessed the beginnings of Oregon civilization. Two of our travellers, Franchère and Ross, have graphically detailed the Astoria episode, giving us, not without some literary skill, the skeleton of facts which Irving's masterful pen clothed with living flesh and healthful color; in Townsend's pages we found an enduring picture of the régime of the all-powerful Hudson's Bay Company; De Smet, with faithful, indeed loving, touches has portrayed the vanishing aborigines, whose sad story has yet fully to be told—eventually, when the last vestige of their race has gone, we shall come to recognize the tale as the sorriest chapter in our annals; Farnham shrewdly narrates the sharp transition to American occupancy; but Palmer tells us of the triumphant progress of the conquering pioneer, and in his pages the destiny of Oregon as an American state is clearly foreshadowed.

"Fifty-four forty, or fight," the belligerent slogan with regard to Oregon, adopted in the presidential campaign of 1844, was after all not so much a notice to the British government that the United States considered the Oregon country her own, beyond recall, as an appeal to the pioneers of the West to secure this vast inheritance by actual occupation. As such it proved a trumpet call to thousands of vigorous American farmers, most of them already possessed of comfortable homes in the growing communities of the Middle West.

"I have an uncle," declared one of the pioneers to Dr. John McLoughlin, Hudson's Bay factor on the Pacific coast, "who is rich enough to buy out your company and all this territory."

"Indeed!" replied the doctor, courteously, "who is he?"

"Uncle Sam," gayly responded the emigrant, with huge enjoyment in his well-worn witticism. It was at the supposed behest of this same "Uncle Sam" that farms were sold, wagons and oxen purchased, outfits prepared, and long caravans of permanent settlers slowly and painfully crossed the vast plains and rugged mountains lying between the comfortable settlements of the "Old Northwest"—the "Middle West" of our day—and the new land of promise in the Far Northwest of the Pacific Slope.

The emigration of 1845 exceeded all that had gone before. That of 1843, eight hundred strong, had startled the Indians, and surprised the staid officials of the Hudson's Bay Company. That of 1844 had occupied the fertile valleys from Puget Sound on the north to Calapooia on the south. That of 1845 determined that the territory should be the home of Americans; it doubled the population already on the ground, reinforced the compact form of government, and laid broad and deep the foundations of new American commonwealths.

Our author, Joel Palmer, a shrewd, genial farmer from Indiana, was a leader among these emigrants of 1845. Born across the Canada line in 1810, he nevertheless was of New York parentage, and American to the core. In early life his family removed to Indiana, where Joel founded a home at Laurel, in northwest Franklin County. By the suffrages of his neighbors Palmer was sent to the state legislature in 1844, but the following year determined to make a tour to Oregon for personal observation, before deciding to remove his family thither and cast his future lot with its pioneer settlers. Arrived on the Missouri frontier, he found that the usual wagon train had gone in advance. However, he overtook the great body of the emigrants in time to assist in the organization of the caravan on Big Soldier's Creek, in Kansas.

Gathered from all parts of the Middle West, with no attempt at organization nor any pre-arrangement whatsoever, the emigrants, who had not yet forgotten the frontier traditions of their fathers, proved to be a homogeneous body of about three thousand alert, capable travellers, provided in general with necessities and even comforts for the hardships of the long journey; indeed, after the manner of their Aryan forbears in the great westerly migrations of the past, they were accompanied by herds of cattle, to form the basis of agricultural life in the new land. Each of the several hundred wagons was a travelling house, provided with tents, beds, and cooking utensils; clothing and food were also carried, sufficient not only for the journey out, but for subsistence through the first year, always the crucial stage of agricultural pioneering. The draught cattle were largely oxen, but many of the men rode horses, and others drove them with their cows and bulls.

Aside from the duties of the nightly encampment and morning "catch-up," life upon the migration progressed much as in settled communities. There were instances of courtship, marriage, illness, and death, and not infrequently births, among the migrating families. These, together with the ever-shifting panorama of sky, plains, and mountains, made the incidents of the long and tedious journey. Occasionally there appeared upon the horizon an Indian gazing silently at these invaders of his tribal domain, and at times he came even to the wagon wheels to beg or trade; the mere numbers of the travellers gave him abundant caution not to attempt hostilities. The wagons were so numerous as to render a compact caravan troublesome to manage and disagreeable to travel with. The great cavalcade soon broke into smaller groups, over one of which, composed of thirty wagons, Palmer was chosen captain.

At Fort Laramie they rested, and feasted the Indians, who, in wonderment and not unnatural consternation, swarmed about them in the guise of beggars. Palmer afterwards harangued the aboriginal visitors, telling them frankly that their entertainers were no traders, they "were going to plough and plant the ground," that their relatives were coming behind them, and these he hoped the red men would treat kindly and allow free passage—a thinly veiled suggestion that the white army of occupation had come to stay and must not be interfered with by the native population, or vengeance would follow.

From Fort Laramie the invaders, for from the standpoint of the Indians such of course were our Western pioneers, followed the usual trail to the newly-established supply depot at Fort Bridger. Thence they went by way of Soda Springs to Fort Hall, where was found awaiting them a delegation from California, seeking, with but slight success, to persuade a portion of the emigrants in that direction. Following Lewis River on its long southern bend, the travellers at last reached Fort Boise, where provisions could be purchased from Hudson's Bay officials, and a final breathing-spell be taken before attempting the most difficult part of the journey—the passage of the Blue and Cascade ranges.

A considerable company of the emigrants, accompanied by the pilot, Stephen H. Meek, left the main party near Fort Hall, to force a new route to the Willamette without following Columbia River. The essay was, however, disastrous. Meek became bewildered, and was obliged to secrete himself to escape the revenge of the exasperated travellers, who reached the Dalles of the Columbia in an exhausted condition, having lost many of their number through hunger and physical hardships.

Palmer himself continued with the main caravan on the customary route through the Grande Ronde, down the Umatilla and the Columbia, arriving at the Dalles by the closing days of September. Here a new difficulty faced the weary pioneers—there was no wagon road beyond the Dalles; boats to transport the intending colonists were few, and had been pre-empted by the early arrivals, while provisions at the Dalles would soon be exhausted. In this situation Palmer determined to join Samuel K. Barlow and his company in an attempt to cross the Cascades south of Mount Hood, and lead the way overland to the Willamette valley. This proved an arduous task, calling for all the skill and fortitude of experienced pathfinders. In its course, Palmer ascended Mount Hood, which he describes as "a sight more nobly grand" than any he had ever looked upon. At last the valley of the Clackamas was reached, and Oregon City, the little capital of the new territory, was attained, where "we were so filled with gratitude that we had reached the settlements of the white man, and with admiration at the appearance of the large sheet of water rolling over the Falls, that we stopped, and in this moment of happiness recounted our toils, in thought, with more rapidity than tongue can express or pen write." The distance that he had travelled from Independence, Missouri, our author estimates at 1,960 miles.

Passing the winter of 1845-46 in Oregon, Palmer made a careful examination of its resources, and in his book describes the country in much detail. The ensuing spring, after a journey to the Lapwai mission for horses, he started on the return route, arriving at his home in Laurel, Indiana, upon the twenty-third of July.

Palmer's experience, although trying, had been sufficiently satisfactory to justify his intention to make a permanent home in Oregon. In 1847 he took his family thither, the emigration of that year being sometimes known as "Palmer's train," he having been elected captain of the entire caravan, also in recognition of his great utility to the expedition. The new caravan had but just arrived in Oregon—now belonging definitely to the United States—when the Whitman massacre aroused the colonists to punish the Indian participants in order to ensure their own safety. In the organization of the militia force, Joel Palmer was chosen quartermaster and commissary general, whence the title of General, by which he was subsequently known.

He was also made one of two commissioners to attempt to treat with the recalcitrant tribes, and win to neutrality as many as possible. Accompanied by Dr. Robert Newell, a former mountain man, and Perrin Whitman, the murdered man's nephew, as interpreter, Palmer risked his life in the land of the hostiles, and succeeded in alienating many Nez Percés and Wallawalla from the guilty Cayuse. Thus was laid the foundation of that full knowledge of aboriginal character that availed him in his service as United States superintendent of Indians for Oregon.

To this difficult position General Palmer was appointed by President Pierce in 1853, just on the eve of an outbreak in southern Oregon, and his term of office coincided with the period of Indian wars. After pacifying the southern tribes, Palmer inaugurated the reservation system, removing the remnants of the tribes of the Willamette valley and their southward neighbors to a large tract in Polk and Yamhill counties, known as Grande Ronde Reservation. This ended the Indian difficulties in that quarter until the Modoc War, twenty years later.

Palmer found the tribesmen east of the mountains more difficult to subdue. Scarcely had he and Isaac T. Stevens, governor of Washington Territory, made a series of treaties (1855) with the Nez Percés, Cayuse, Wallawalla, and neighboring tribes, when the Yakima War began, and embroiled both territories until 1858. During these difficulties the military authorities complained that Commissioner Palmer was too lenient with former hostiles, and pinned too much faith to their promises. Consequently the Oregon superintendency was merged with that of Washington (1857), and James W. Nesmith appointed to the combined office.

Retiring to his home in Dayton, Yamhill County, which town he had laid out in 1850, General Palmer was soon called upon to serve in the state legislature, being speaker of the house of representatives (1862-63), and state senator (1864-66). During the latter incumbency he declined being a candidate for United States senator, because of his belief that a person already holding a public office of emolument should not during his term be elected to another. In 1870 he was Republican candidate for governor of the state, but was defeated by a majority of less than seven hundred votes. From this time forward he lived quietly at Dayton, and there passed away upon the ninth of June, 1881. His excellent portrait given in Lyman's History of Oregon (iii, p. 398) is that of an old man; but the face is still strong and kindly, with a high and broad forehead, and gentle yet piercing eyes.

One of Palmer's fellow pioneers said of him, "he was a man of ardent temperament, strong friendships, and full of hope and confidence in his fellow men." Another calls his greatest characteristic his honesty and integrity. Widely known and respected in the entire North-West, his services in the up-building of the new community were of large import.

Not the least of these services was, in our judgment, the publication of his Journal of Travels over the Rocky Mountains, herein reprinted, which was compiled during the winter of 1846-47, and planned as a guide for intending emigrants. The author hoped to have it in readiness for the train of 1847, but the publishers were dilatory and he only received about a dozen copies before starting. The book proved useful enough, however, to require two later editions, one in 1851, another in 1852, and was much used by emigrants of the sixth decade of the past century.

Palmer makes no pretence of literary finish. He gives us a simple narrative of each day's happenings during his own first journey in 1845, taking especial care to indicate the route, each night's camping places, and all possible cut-offs, springs, grassy oases, and whatever else might conduce to the well-being of the emigrant and his beasts. The great care taken by the author, with this very practical end in view, results in his volume being the most complete description of the Oregon Trail that we now possess. Later, his account of passing around Mount Hood and the initial survey of the Barlow road, produces a marked effect through its simplicity of narrative. His incidents have a quaint individuality, as for instance the reproof from the Cayuse chief for the impiety of card-playing. No better description of the Willamette valley can be found than in these pages, and our author's records of the climate, early prices in Oregon, and the necessities of an emigrant's outfit, complete a graphic picture of pioneering days.

In the annotation of the present volume, we have had valuable suggestions and some material help from Principal William I. Marshall of Chicago, Professor Edmond S. Meany of the University of Washington, Mr. George H. Himes of Portland, Dr. Joseph Schafer of the University of Oregon, and Mr. Edward Huggins, a veteran Hudson's Bay Company official at Fort Nisqually.

With this volume our series of narratives ends, save for the general index reserved for volume xxxi. The Western travels which began in tentative excursions into the Indian country around Pittsburg and Eastern Ohio in 1748, have carried us to the coast of the Pacific. The continent has been spanned. Not without some exhibitions of wanton cruelty on the part of the whites have the aborigines been pushed from their fertile seats and driven to the mountain wall. The American frontier has steadily retreated—at first from the Alleghanies to the Middle West, thence across the Mississippi, and now at the close of our series it is ascending the Missouri and has sent vanguards to the Farthest Northwest. The ruts of caravan routes have been deeply sunk into the plains and deserts, and wheel marks are visible through the length of several mountain passes. The greater part of the continental interior has been threaded and mapped. The era of railroad building and the engineer is at hand. The long journey to the Western ocean has been ridded of much of its peril, and is less a question of mighty endurance than confronted the pathfinders. When Francis Parkman, the historian of New France, going out upon the first stages of the Oregon Trail in 1847—the year following the date of the present volume—saw emigrant wagons fitted with rocking chairs and cooking stoves, he foresaw the advent of the commonplace upon the plains, and the end of the romance of Early Western Travels.

Throughout the entire task of preparing for the press this series of reprints, the Editor has had the assistance of Louise Phelps Kellogg, Ph. D., a member of his staff in the Wisconsin Historical Library. Others have also rendered editorial aid, duly acknowledged in the several volumes as occasion arose; but from beginning to end, particularly in the matter of annotation, Dr. Kellogg has been his principal research colleague, and he takes great pleasure in asking for her a generous share of whatever credit may accrue from the undertaking. Annie Amelia Nunns, A. B., also of his library staff, has rendered most valuable expert aid, chiefly in proofreading and indexing. The Editor cannot close his last word to the Reader without gratefully calling attention, as well, to the admirable mechanical and artistic dress with which his friends the Publishers have generously clothed the series, and to bear witness to their kindly suggestions, active assistance, and unwearied patience, during the several years of preparation and publication.

R. G. T.

Madison, Wis., August, 1906.

Palmer's Journal of Travels over the Rocky
Mountains, 1845-1846

Reprint of original edition: Cincinnati, 1847

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1847, by
J. A. & U. P. JAMES,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Ohio.

TO THE
PIONEERS OF THE WEST,
AND THEIR DESCENDANTS,
THE BONE AND MUSCLE OF THE COMMUNITY,
WHO IMPROVE AND ENRICH THE COUNTRY IN PEACE,
AND PROTECT AND DEFEND IT IN WAR,
THIS WORK

IS RESPECTFULLY

DEDICATED.

[PUBLISHERS' ADVERTISEMENT]

In offering to the public a new work on Oregon, the publishers feel confident that they are performing an acceptable service to all who are desirous of obtaining full and correct information of that extensive and interesting region.

The facts contained in this Journal of Travels over the Rocky Mountains were obtained, by the author, from personal inspection and observation; or derived from intelligent persons, some of whom had resided in the country for ten years previously. It contains, as is believed, much very valuable information never before published, respecting the Oregon Territory.

Mr. Palmer's statements and descriptions are direct and clear, and may be relied on for their accuracy. He observed with the eye of an intelligent farmer the hills and valleys; timbered land and prairies, soil, grass, mill sites, &c.; all of which he has particularly described.

To the man about to emigrate to Oregon just the kind of information needed is given. He is informed what is the best season for setting out; the kinds and quantities of necessary outfits; where they may be purchased to the best advantage, so as to save money, time and useless hauling of provisions, and to promote comfort and prevent suffering on the long journey.

{vi} A particular account of Oregon City is given; the number of houses and inhabitants; the number and kinds of mechanical trades carried on; and the prices current during the author's stay there.

The objects of natural curiosity on the route—the Solitary Tower—the Chimney Rock—Independence Rock—the Hot Springs—the Devil's Gate—the South Pass—the Soda Springs, and many others—are noticed.

The work is enlivened with anecdotes of mountaineer life—shooting buffalo—hunting bear—taking fish, &c.

Mr. Palmer made the ascent of one of the highest peaks of Mount Hood, almost alone, and with a very scanty supply of provisions. An extraordinary achievement, when the circumstances under which it was accomplished are taken into consideration.

Cincinnati, January, 1847.

[JOURNAL OF TRAVELS OVER THE
ROCKY MOUNTAINS]

Having concluded, from the best information I was able to obtain, that the Oregon Territory offers great inducements to emigrants, I determined to visit it with a view of satisfying myself in regard to it, and of ascertaining by personal observation whether its advantages were sufficient to warrant me in the effort to make it my future home.[1] I started, accordingly, on the morning of the 16th of April, 1845, in company with Mr. Spencer Buckley. We expected to be joined by several young men from Rushville, Ind., but they all abandoned the enterprise, and gave us no other encouragement than their good wishes for our success and safety. I took leave of my family, friends and home, with a truly melancholy heart. I had long looked forward and suffered in imagination the pain of this anticipated separation; but I had not tasted of its realities, and none but those who have parted with a family under similar circumstances, can form any just conception of the depth and power of the emotions which pervaded my breast on that occasion. The undertaking before me was arduous. It might and doubtless would be attended with various and unknown difficulties, privations and dangers. A doubt arose in my mind, whether the advantages, which were expected to result from the trip, would be likely to compensate for the time and expense necessary to accomplish it: but I believed that I was right, hoped for the best, and pressed onward.

We were favoured with a pleasant day and good roads, which tended in some degree to dissipate the gloom which {10} had weighed down my spirits upon leaving home. Our day's travel ended at Blue River, on the banks of which we encamped for the first time on the long and tedious journey before us.[2]

April 17. Arrived at Indianapolis, in the afternoon, where we expected to meet a number of persons, who had expressed a determination to join the party.[3] But here too, as in the case of our Rushville friends, we were doomed to meet disappointment;—not one was found willing to join us in our expedition. After having had our horses well shod, (we traveled in an ordinary wagon drawn by two horses,) and having laid in a supply of medicines, we put up for the night.

April 18. We this day had a sample of what might be called the mishaps of travelers—an encounter with a wild animal, the first which we met in our journey. One of our horses becoming lame, we were obliged to trade him away, and received in exchange one so wild, that it required the greatest vigilance and exertion on our part to prevent him from running away with our whole concern. We reached Mount Meridian after a day's journey of about thirty-four miles, during which we succeeded admirably in taming our wild horse.[4]

April 24. Reached the Mississippi, opposite to St. Louis, having traveled daily, and made the best of our time after leaving Mount Meridian.

April 25. We made a few purchases this morning, consisting chiefly of Indian trinkets, tobacco, powder, lead, &c. and, soon after, resumed our journey upon the road to St. Charles, the seat of justice for St. Charles county.[5] We reached this place at the close of the day, and encamped upon the banks of the Missouri, which appears to be about as wide as the Ohio at Cincinnati, in a fair stage of water; the current is quite strong; the water very thick and muddy. Here, we overtook a company of Germans, from St. Louis, who had started for California. The company consisted of four men, two women and three children; they traveled with a wagon drawn by six mules, and a cart drawn by two,—a very poor means of conveyance for such a long and tedious route. We traveled the same road until we reached Fort Hall.

April 26. At nine o'clock A. M. we crossed the river and traveled twenty-eight miles. The surface of the country is somewhat undulating; the soil, though poorly watered, appears to be good, and produces respectable crops.

April 27. We traveled thirty-one miles. The day was rainy {11} and unpleasant. The country through which we passed is a rolling prairie: some parts of it are very well timbered. On account of the scarcity of springs, the people rely generally upon their supplies of rain water. There we were joined by a clever backwoodsman, by the name of Dodson, who was making the best of his lonely journey to join an emigrating party at Independence; upon his consenting to bear an equal share in our expenses and outfit at that place, we took him in, and traveled together.

April 28. We started this morning at sunrise, and traveled to Lute creek, a distance of six and a half miles.[6] This stream was so much swollen, in consequence of the recent rains, that we were unable to ford it, and were forced to encamp upon its banks, and remain all day. While there, we were greatly annoyed by the wood-tick—an insect resembling, in size and in other respects, the sheep-tick. These insects, with which the bushes and even the ground seemed to be covered, fastened themselves with such tenacity upon our flesh, that when picking them off in the morning, the head would remain sticking fast to the skin, causing in most cases a painful wound.

April 29. We traveled about twenty-six miles, through a gently undulating country: the principal crops consisted of corn, oats, tobacco and some wheat. We passed through Williamsburgh and Fulton. The latter town is the seat of justice for Callaway county.[7]

April 30. We made an advance of about thirty miles through a well timbered country, and passed through Columbia, the seat of justice for Boone county. The town is pleasant and surrounded by a fertile and attractive country. We made our halt and encamped for the night, five miles westward of this town.

May 1. We started this morning at the usual hour, and after a ride of eight miles, reached and re-crossed the Missouri, at Rocheport, and continued our journey until night, passing through Booneville, the county seat of Cooper—a rich and fertile county, making in all a ride of twenty-six miles.[8]

May 2. Passed through the town of Marshall, the seat of justice for Saline county. The town stands upon an elevated prairie, upon which may be found a few groves of shrubby timber. The country upon this [the west] side appeared to be much better supplied with water, than that upon the east side.[9]

May 3. We traveled about twenty-eight miles, over a thinly-settled {12} prairie country. The crops, cultivated generally by negroes, consisted of hemp, corn, oats, and a little wheat and tobacco. The soil appeared to be good, but the scarcity of timber will prove a serious barrier to a complete settlement of the country.

May 4. We traveled twenty-three miles this day, through a better improved and pleasanter part of Missouri, than any we have yet seen. The crops appeared well; there were fine orchards under successful cultivation. The country is well timbered, and there appears nothing to hinder it from becoming the seat of a dense and thriving population.

May 6. Reached Independence at nine o'clock A.M.;[10] and as the main body of emigrants had left a few days previous, we hastily laid in our supplies, and at five o'clock P. M., pushed forward about two miles, and encamped upon the banks of a small creek, in company with four wagons, bound for Oregon. From one of the wagons they drew forth a large jug of whiskey, and before bed-time all the men were completely intoxicated. In the crowd was a mountaineer, who gave us a few lessons in the first chapter of a life among the mountains. At midnight, when all were quiet, I wrapped myself in my blanket, laid down under an oak tree, and began to realize that I was on my journey to Oregon.

May 7. After traveling about fifteen miles we halted and procured an extra set of horse-shoes, and a few additional wagon bows. The main body of the emigrants is twenty-five miles in advance of us: we have now passed out of Missouri, and are traveling in an Indian country—most of which is a rolling prairie.[11]

May 8. We started at seven o'clock, A. M. and traveled about twenty miles. Towards evening we overtook an emigrating company, consisting of thirty-eight wagons, with about one thousand head of loose cattle, all under the direction of a Mr. Brown. We passed this company, expecting to overtake a company of about one hundred wagons, which were but a few miles before us. The night, however, became so dark that we were compelled to encamp upon the prairie. Soon after we had staked our horses, a herd of wild Indian horses came galloping furiously by us, which so alarmed our horses and mules, that they broke loose and ran away after them. Dodson and myself pursued, but were distanced, and after running two or three miles, abandoned the chase as hopeless, and attempted to return to the camp. Owing to the darkness, we {13} were unable to find our camp, until the night had far advanced; and when we finally reached it, it required all my logic, supported by the positive testimony of Buckley, to convince Dodson that we were actually there.

May 9. At daylight, Dodson and I resumed the search for our lost stock. After a fatiguing tramp of several hours, I came upon one of the mules, which being hobbled, had been unable to keep with the herd. Dodson was unsuccessful, and returned to camp before me; during our absence, however, the herd had strolled near the camp, and Buckley had succeeded in taking our two horses. Having taken some refreshments, we started again in search of the lost animals. As I was returning to camp, hopeless, weary and hungry, I saw at a distance Dodson and Buckley mounted upon our two horses, and giving chase to the herd of Indian horses, among which were our two mules. The scene was wild, romantic and exciting. The race was untrammeled by any of those arbitrary and useless rules with which the "knights of the turf" encumber their races, and was pursued on both sides, for a nobler purpose; it was to decide between the rights of property on the one side, and the rights of liberty on the other. The contest was for a long time doubtful; but the herd finally succeeded in winning the race, and poor Buckley and Dodson were compelled to yield; the former having lost his reputation as a sportsman, and the latter—what grieved him more,—his team; and both had ruined the character of their coursers in suffering them to be beaten. Sad and dispirited, they returned to camp, where, after a short consultation, it was unanimously resolved,—inasmuch as there was no other alternative,—to suffer the mules freely and forever to enjoy the enlarged liberty which they had so nobly won.

The day was nearly spent, but we harnessed up our team and traveled four miles, to the crossing of a creek, where we encamped for the night.

May 10. Re-considered our resolution of last evening, and spent the morning looking for the mules—re-adopted the same resolution, for the same reason, and then resumed our journey.

We advanced about eighteen miles through a very fertile and well watered country, and possessing, along the banks of the water courses, a supply of bur and white oak, ash, elm, and black walnut timber, amply sufficient for all practical purposes. In our travel, we crossed a stream called the Walkarusha, extending back from which, about two miles in width, {14} we discovered a fine bottom covered with heavy bur oak and black walnut timber. After passing through this bottom, the trail strikes into a level and beautiful prairie, and crossing it—a distance of four miles—rises gradually to the ridge between the Walkarusha and the Caw, or Kansas river.[12] We encamped upon the ridge, in full view of the two streams, which at this place are from six to eight miles apart. The banks of both streams, as far as can be seen, are lined, either way, with excellent timber: the country rises gradually from the streams, for fifteen or twenty miles, with alternate forests and prairies, presenting to the eye a truly splendid scene. I noticed here almost a countless number of mounds, in different directions—some covered with timber, others with long grass. The Caw or Kansas Indians dwell along these streams. Through this part of the route there are two trails, uniting near our camp; the difference in the distance is small.[13]

May 11. We traveled about twenty miles, and passed a company of twenty-eight wagons. The road runs upon the ridge, which after a distance of ten or twelve miles becomes a broad rolling prairie. As night came on, we came up with the company of one hundred wagons which we were in pursuit of: they were encamped upon the banks of a small brook, four miles from the Kansas, into which it empties. We joined this company. At dark the guard was stationed, who becoming tired of their monotonous round of duty, amused themselves by shooting several dogs, and by so doing excited no small tumult in the company, which after some exertion on the part of the more orderly portion was quelled, and tranquility restored.

May 12. We traveled about four miles to Caw or Kansas river. This is a muddy stream, of about two hundred and fifty yards in width. We were obliged to be ferried over it in a flat boat; and so large was our company, and so slowly did the ferrymen carry on the necessary operations, that darkness overtook us before half the wagons had crossed the stream. Fearing molestation from the numerous Indians who were prowling about, we were compelled to keep a strong guard around our camp, and especially around our cattle; and when all the preliminaries had been arranged, we betook ourselves to rest; but our tranquility was soon interrupted by one of the most terrific thunder storms that I ever witnessed. It appeared to me that the very elements had broken loose, and that each was engaging madly in a desperate struggle for the mastery. All was confusion in our camp. The storm had so frightened the cattle, {15} that they were perfectly furious and ungovernable, and rushed through the guard, and dashed forward over the country before us: nothing could be done to secure them, and we were obliged to allow them to have out their race, and endeavor to guard our camp.

May 13. Early this morning we succeeded in finding and taking possession of our cattle, and by noon all our wagons had crossed the river. Soon after we took up our line of march, and after advancing about three miles, encamped near the banks of Big Soldier creek, for the purpose of organizing the company by an election of officers; the officers then acting having been elected to serve only until the company should reach this place.[14] It was decided, when at Independence, that here there should be a thorough and complete organization. Great interest had been manifested in regard to the matter while upon the road; but now when we had reached the spot and the period for attending to the matter in earnest had arrived, the excitement was intense. The most important officers to be elected were the pilot and captain of the company. There were two candidates for the office of pilot,—one a Mr. Adams, from Independence,—the other a Mr. Meek, from the same place. Mr. Adams had once been as far west as Fort Laramie, had in his possession Gilpin's Notes,[15] had engaged a Spaniard, who had traveled over the whole route, to accompany him, and moreover had been conspicuously instrumental in producing the "Oregon fever." In case the company would elect him pilot, and pay him five hundred dollars, in advance, he would bind himself to pilot them to Fort Vancouver.

Mr. Meek, an old mountaineer, had spent several years as a trader and trapper, among the mountains, and had once been through to Fort Vancouver;[16] he proposed to pilot us through for two hundred and fifty dollars, thirty of which were to be paid in advance, and the balance when we arrived at Fort Vancouver. A motion was then made to postpone the election to the next day. While we were considering the motion, Meek came running into the camp, and informed us that the Indians were driving away our cattle. This intelligence caused the utmost confusion: motions and propositions, candidates and their special friends, were alike disregarded; rifles were grasped, and horses were hastily mounted, and away we all galloped in pursuit. Our two thousand head of cattle were now scattered over the prairie, at a distance of four or five miles from the camp.

{16} About two miles from camp, in full view, up the prairie, was a small Indian village; the greater part of our enraged people, with the hope of hearing from the lost cattle, drove rapidly forward to this place. As they approached the village, the poor Indians were seen running to and fro, in great dismay—their women and children skulking about and hiding themselves,—while the chiefs came forward, greeted our party kindly, and by signs offered to smoke the pipe of peace, and engage with them in trade. On being charged with the theft of our cattle, they firmly asserted their innocence; and such was their conduct, that the majority of the party was convinced they had been wrongfully accused: but one poor fellow, who had just returned to the village, and manifested great alarm upon seeing so many "pale faces," was taken; and failing to prove his innocence, was hurried away to camp and placed under guard. Meanwhile, after the greater part of the company had returned to camp, and the captain had assembled the judges, the prisoner was arraigned at the bar for trial, and the solemn interrogatory, "Are you guilty or not guilty," was propounded to him: but to this, his only answer was—a grunt, the import of which the honorable court not being able clearly to comprehend, his trial was formally commenced and duly carried through. The evidence brought forward against him not being sufficient to sustain the charge, he was fully acquitted; and, when released, "split" for his wigwam in the village. After the excitement had in some degree subsided, and the affair was calmly considered, it was believed by most of us that the false alarm in regard to the Indians had been raised with the design of breaking up or postponing the election. If such was the design, it succeeded admirably.

May 14. Immediately after breakfast, the camp was assembled, and proceeded to the election of officers and the business of organization. The election resulted in the choice of S. L. Meek, as pilot, and Doctor P. Welch,[17] formerly of Indiana, as captain, with a host of subalterns; such as lieutenants, judges, sergeants, &c.

After these matters had been disposed of, we harnessed up our teams and traveled about five miles, and encamped with Big Soldier creek on our right hand and Caw river on our left.

The next day we were delayed in crossing Big Soldier creek, on account of the steepness of its banks; and advanced only twelve miles through a prairie country. Here {17} sixteen wagons separated from us, and we were joined by fifteen others.

May 17. We traveled eighteen miles over a high, rolling prairie, and encamped on the banks of Little Vermilion creek, in sight of a Caw village. The principal chief resides at this village.[18] Our camp here replenished their stores; and, although these Indians may be a set of beggarly thieves, they conducted themselves honorably in their dealings with us; in view of which we raised for their benefit a contribution of tobacco, powder, lead, &c., and received in return many good wishes for a pleasant and successful journey. After leaving them, we traveled about twelve miles over a fertile prairie. In the evening, after we had encamped and taken our supper, a wedding was attended to with peculiar interest.

May 19. This day our camp did not rise. A growing spirit of dissatisfaction had prevailed since the election; there were a great number of disappointed candidates, who were unwilling to submit to the will of the majority; and to such a degree had a disorderly spirit been manifested, that it was deemed expedient to divide the company. Accordingly, it was mutually agreed upon, to form, from the whole body, three companies; and that, while each company should select its own officers and manage its internal affairs, the pilot, and Capt. Welsh, who had been elected by the whole company, should retain their posts, and travel with the company in advance. It was also arranged, that each company should take its turn in traveling in advance, for a week at a time. A proposition was then made and acceded to, which provided that a collection of funds, with which to pay the pilot, should be made previous to the separation, and placed in the hands of some person to be chosen by the whole, as treasurer, who should give bonds, with approved security, for the fulfilment of his duty.

A treasurer was accordingly chosen, who after giving the necessary bond, collected about one hundred and ninety dollars of the money promised; some refused to pay, and others had no money in their possession. All these and similar matters having been satisfactorily arranged, the separation took place, and the companies proceeded to the election of the necessary officers. The company to which I had attached myself, consisting of thirty wagons, insisted that I should officiate as their captain, and with some reluctance I consented. We dispensed with many of the offices and formalities which {18} existed in the former company, and after adopting certain regulations respecting the government of the company, and settling other necessary preliminaries, we retired to rest for the night.

May 20. We have this day traveled fifteen miles, through a prairie country, with occasionally a small grove along the streams.

May 22. Yesterday after moving thirteen miles we crossed Big Vermillion, and encamped a mile beyond its west bank; we found a limestone country, quite hilly, indeed almost mountainous. To-day we have crossed Bee, and Big Blue creeks; the latter stream is lined with oak, walnut, and hickory.[19] We encamped two and a half miles west of it. During the night it rained very hard. Our cattle became frightened and all ran away.

May 23. Made to-day but eight miles. Our pilot notified us that this would be our last opportunity to procure timber for axle trees, wagon tongues, &c., and we provided a supply of this important material. Our cattle were all found.

May 25. Early this morning we were passed by Col. Kearney and his party of dragoons, numbering about three hundred. They have with them nineteen wagons drawn by mules, and drive fifty head of cattle and twenty-five head of sheep. They go to the South Pass of the Rocky Mountains.[20] Our travel of to-day and yesterday is thirty-two miles, during which we have crossed several small streams, skirted by trees. The soil looks fertile.

May 26. Overtook Capt. Welsh's company to-day. We passed twelve miles through a rolling prairie region, and encamped on Little Sandy.

May 27. As it was now the turn of our company to travel in advance, we were joined by Capt. Welsh and our pilot. The country is of the same character with that we passed through on yesterday, and is highly adapted to the purpose of settlement, having a good soil, and streams well lined with timber.

May 31. In the afternoon of the 28th we struck the Republican fork of Blue River,[21] along which for fifty miles lay the route we were traveling. Its banks afford oak, ash and hickory, and often open out into wide and fertile bottoms. Here and there we observed cotton wood and willow. The pea vine grows wild, in great abundance on the bottoms. The pea is smaller than our common garden pea and afforded us a {19} pleasant vegetable. We saw also a few wild turkies. To-day we reached a point where a trail turns from this stream, a distance of twenty-five miles, to the Platte or Nebraska river. We kept the left hand route, and some nine or ten miles beyond this trail, we made our last encampment on the Republican Fork.

June 1. We set out at the usual hour and crossed over the country to Platte river; having measured the road with the chain, we ascertained the distance to be eighteen and a half miles, from our encampment of last night. It is all a rolling prairie; and in one spot, we found in pools a little standing water. Some two miles before reaching the Platte bottom the prairie is extremely rough; and as far as the eye can reach up and down that river, it is quite sandy.[22] We encamped near a marshy spot, occasioned by the overflow of the river, opposite an island covered with timber, to which we were obliged to go through the shallows of the river for fuel, as the main land is entirely destitute of trees. Near us the Platte bottom is three and a half miles wide, covered with excellent grass, which our cattle ate greedily, being attracted by a salt like substance which covers the grass and lies sprinkled on the surface of the ground. We observed large herds of antelope in our travel of to-day. In the evening it rained very hard.

June 2. Our week of advance traveling being expired, we resolved to make a short drive, select a suitable spot, and lay by for washing. We accordingly encamped about six miles up Platte river. As I had been elected captain but for two weeks, and my term was now expired, a new election was held, which resulted in the choice of the same person. The captain, Welsh, who was originally elected by all the companies, had been with us one week, and some dissatisfaction was felt, by our company, at the degree of authority he seemed disposed to exercise. We found, too, that it was bad policy to require the several companies to wait for each other;—our supply of provision was considered barely sufficient for the journey, and it behooved us [to] make the best use of our time. At present one of the companies was supposed to be two or three days travel in the rear. We adopted a resolution desiring the several companies to abandon the arrangement that required each to delay for the others; and that each company should have the use of the pilot according to its turn. Our proposition was not, for the present, accepted by the other companies. While we were at our washing encampment one {20} of the companies passed us, the other still remaining in the rear.

June 3. Having traveled about eight miles, we halted at noon, making short drives, to enable the rear company to join us. We have no tidings of it as yet. We met seventy-five or eighty Pawnee Indians returning from their spring hunt.[23]

June 5. Yesterday we traveled about twelve miles, passing captain Stephens, with his advance company. To-day we traveled about the same distance, suffering Stephens' company to pass us.[24] At noon they were delayed by the breaking of an axletree of one of their wagons, and we again passed them, greatly to their offence. They refused to accede to our terms, and we determined to act on our own responsibility. We therefore dissolved our connection with the other companies, and thenceforward acted independently of them.

June 6. We advanced twenty miles to-day. We find a good road, but an utter absence of ordinary fuel. We are compelled to substitute for it buffalo dung, which burns freely.

June 7. We find in our sixteen miles travel to-day that the grass is very poor in the Platte bottoms, having been devoured by the buffalo herds. These bottoms are from two to four miles in width, and are intersected, at every variety of interval, by paths made by the buffaloes, from the bluffs to the river. These paths are remarkable in their appearance, being about fifteen inches wide, and four inches deep, and worn into the soil as smoothly as they could be cut with a spade.

We formed our encampment on the bank of the river, with three emigrating companies within as many miles of us; two above and one below; one of fifty-two wagons, one of thirteen, and one of forty-three—ours having thirty-seven. We find our cattle growing lame, and most of the company are occupied in attempting to remedy the lameness. The prairie having been burnt, dry, sharp stubs of clotted grass remain, which are very hard, and wear and irritate the feet of the cattle. The foot becomes dry and feverish, and cracks in the opening of the hoof. In this opening the rough blades of grass and dirt collect, and the foot generally festers, and swells very much. Our mode of treating it was, to wash the foot with strong soap suds, scrape or cut away all the diseased flesh, and then pour boiling pitch or tar upon the sore. If applied early this remedy will cure. Should the heel become worn out, apply tar or pitch, and singe with a hot iron. At our encampment to-night we have abundance of wood for fuel.

{21} June 8. We advanced to-day about twelve miles. The bottom near our camp is narrow, but abounds in timber, being covered with ash; it, however, affords poor grazing. So far as we have traveled along the Platte, we find numerous islands in the river, and some of them quite large. In the evening a young man, named Foster,[25] was wounded by the accidental discharge of a gun. The loaded weapon, from which its owner had neglected to remove the cap, was placed at the tail of a wagon; as some one was taking out a tent-cloth, the gun was knocked down, and went off. The ball passed through a spoke of the wagon-wheel, struck the felloe, and glanced. Foster was walking some two rods from the wagon, when the half spent ball struck him in the back, near the spine; and, entering between the skin and the ribs, came out about three inches from where it entered, making merely a flesh wound. A small fragment of the ball had lodged in his arm.

June 9. The morning is rainy. To-day we passed Stephens' company, which passed us on yesterday. Our dissensions are all healed; and they have decided to act upon our plan.

June 10. Yesterday we traveled fifteen miles; to-day the same distance. We find the grazing continues poor. In getting to our encampment, we passed through a large dog town. These singular communities may be seen often, along the banks of the Platte, occupying various areas, from one to five hundred acres. The one in question covered some two hundred or three hundred acres. The prairie-dog is something larger than a common sized gray squirrel, of a dun color; the head resembles that of a bull dog: the tail is about three inches in length. Their food is prairie grass. Like rabbits, they burrow in the ground, throwing out heaps of earth, and often large stones, which remain at the mouth of their holes. The entrance to their burrows is about four inches in diameter, and runs obliquely into the earth about three feet, when the holes ramify in every direction and connect with each other on every side. Some kind of police seems to be observed among them; for at the approach of man, one of the dogs will run to the entrance of a burrow, and, squatting down, utter a shrill bark. At once, the smaller part of the community will retreat to their holes, while numbers of the larger dogs will squat, like the first, at their doors, and unite in the barking. A near approach drives them all under ground. It is singular, {22} but true, that the little screech-owl and the rattlesnake keep them company in their burrows. I have frequently seen the owls, but not the snake, with them. The mountaineers, however, inform me, that they often catch all three in the same hole. The dog is eaten by the Indians, with quite a relish; and often by the mountaineers. I am not prepared to speak of its qualities as an article of food.

During the night, a mule, belonging to a Mr. Risley,[26] of our company, broke from its tether, and in attempting to secure it, its owner was repeatedly shot at by the guard; but, fortunately, was not hit. He had run from his tent without having been perceived by the guard, and was crawling over the ground, endeavoring to seize the trail rope, which was tied to his mule's neck. The guard mistook him for an Indian, trying to steal horses, and called to him several times; but a high wind blowing he did not hear. The guard leveled and fired, but his gun did not go off. Another guard, standing near, presented his piece and fired; the cap burst, without discharging the load. The first guard, by this time prepared, fired a second time, without effect. By this time the camp was roused, and nearly all seized their fire-arms, when we discovered that the supposed Indian was one of our own party. We regarded it as providential that the man escaped, as the guard was a good shot, and his mark was not more than eighty yards distant. This incident made us somewhat more cautious about leaving the camp, without notifying the guard.

June 11. To-day we traveled ten or twelve miles. Six miles brought us to the lower crossing of Platte river, which is five or six miles above the forks, and where the high ground commences between the two streams. There is a trail which turns over the bluff to the left; we however took the right, and crossed the river.[27] The south fork is at this place about one fourth of a mile wide, and from one to three feet deep, with a sandy bottom, which made the fording so heavy that we were compelled to double teams. The water through the day is warm; but as the nights are cool, it is quite cool enough in the morning. On the west bank of the river was encamped Brown's company, which passed us whilst we were organizing at Caw River. We passed them, and proceeded along the west side of the south fork, and encamped on the river bank. At night our hunters brought in some buffalo meat.

June 13. Yesterday we followed the river about thirteen miles, and encamped on its bank, where the road between the {23} two forks strikes across the ridge toward the North fork. To-day we have followed that route: directly across, the distance does not exceed four miles: but the road runs obliquely between the two streams, and reaches the North fork about nine miles from our last camp. We found quite a hill to descend, as the road runs up the bottom a half mile and then ascends the bluff. Emigrants should keep the bluff sixteen or seventeen miles. We descended a ravine and rested on the bank of the river.

June 15. Yesterday we advanced eight miles, and halted to wash and rest our teams. We have remained all this day in camp. At daylight a herd of buffalo approached near the camp; they were crossing the river, but as soon as they caught the scent, they retreated to the other side. It was a laughable sight to see them running in the water. Some of our men having been out with their guns, returned at noon overloaded with buffalo meat. We then commenced jerking it. This is a process resorted to for want of time or means to cure meat by salting. The meat is sliced thin, and a scaffold prepared, by setting forks in the ground, about three feet high, and laying small poles or sticks crosswise upon them. The meat is laid upon those pieces, and a slow fire built beneath; the heat and smoke completes the process in half a day; and with an occasional sunning the meat will keep for months.

An unoccupied spectator, who could have beheld our camp to-day, would think it a singular spectacle. The hunters returning with the spoil; some erecting scaffolds, and others drying the meat. Of the women, some were washing, some ironing, some baking. At two of the tents the fiddle was employed in uttering its unaccustomed voice among the solitudes of the Platte; at one tent I heard singing; at others the occupants were engaged in reading, some the Bible, others poring over novels. While all this was going on, that nothing might be wanting to complete the harmony of the scene, a Campbellite preacher, named Foster, was reading a hymn, preparatory to religious worship. The fiddles were silenced, and those who had been occupied with that amusement, betook themselves to cards. Such is but a miniature of the great world we had left behind us, when we crossed the line that separates civilized man from the wilderness. But even here the variety of occupation, the active exercise of body and mind, either in labor or pleasure, the commingling of evil and good, show that the likeness is a true one.

{24} June 17. On our travel of eight miles, yesterday, we found the bluffs quite high, often approaching with their rocky fronts to the water's edge, and now and then a cedar nodding at the top. Our camp, last night, was in a cedar and ash grove, with a high, frowning bluff overhanging us; but a wide bottom, with fine grass around us, and near at hand an excellent spring. To-day five miles over the ridge brought us to Ash Hollow. Here the trail, which follows the east side of the South fork of Platte, from where we crossed it, connects with this trail.[28] The road then turns down Ash Hollow to the river; a quarter of a mile from the latter is a fine spring, and around it wood and grass in abundance. Our road, to-day, has been very sandy. The bluffs are generally rocky, at times presenting perpendicular cliffs of three hundred feet high. We passed two companies, both of which we had before passed; but whilst we were lying by on the North fork, they had traveled up the South fork and descended Ash Hollow.

June 18. We met a company of mountaineers from Fort Laramie, who had started for the settlements early in the season, with flat-boats loaded with buffalo robes, and other articles of Indian traffic. The river became so low, that they were obliged to lay by; part of the company had returned to the fort for teams; others were at the boat landing, while fifteen of the party were footing their way to the States. They were a jolly set of fellows. Four wagons joined us from one of the other divisions, and among them was John Nelson, with his family, formerly of Franklin county, Indiana. We traveled fifteen miles, passing Captain Smith's company.

June 19. Five miles, to-day, brought us to Spring creek; eleven miles further to another creek, the name of which I could not ascertain; there we encamped, opposite the Solitary Tower.[29] This singular natural object is a stupendous pile of sand and clay, so cemented as to resemble stone, but which crumbles away at the slightest touch. I conceive it is about seven miles distant from the mouth of the creek; though it appears to be not more than three. The height of this tower is somewhere between six hundred and eight hundred feet from the level of the river. Viewed from the road, the beholder might easily imagine he was gazing upon some ancient structure of the old world. A nearer approach dispels the illusion, and it looks, as it is, rough and unseemly. It can be ascended, at its north side, by clambering up the rock; holes having been cut in its face for that purpose. The second, or {25} main bench, can be ascended with greater ease at an opening on the south side, where the water has washed out a crevice large enough to admit the body; so that by pushing against the sides of the crevice one can force himself upward fifteen or twenty feet, which places the adventurer on the slope of the second bench. Passing round the eastern point of the tower, the ascent may be continued up its north face. A stream of water runs along the north-eastern side, some twenty rods distant from the tower; and deep ravines are cut out by the washing of the water from the tower to the creek. Near by stands another pile of materials, similar to that composing the tower, but neither so large nor so high. The bluffs in this vicinity appear to be of the same material. Between this tower and the river stretches out a rolling plain, barren and desolate enough.

June 20. Traveling fourteen miles, we halted in the neighborhood of the Chimney Rock. This is a sharp-pointed rock, of much the same material as the Solitary Tower, standing at the base of the bluff, and four or five miles from the road. It is visible at a distance of thirty miles, and has the unpoetical appearance of a hay-stack, with a pole running far above its top.[30]

June 24. Since the 20th we have traveled about sixty-two miles, and are now at Fort Laramie; making our whole travel from Independence about six hundred and thirty miles. On the 22d we passed over Scott's Bluffs, where we found a good spring, and abundance of wood and grass. A melancholy tradition accounts for the name of this spot. A party who had been trading with the Indians were returning to the States and encountering a band of hostile savages, were robbed of their peltries and food. As they struggled homeward, one of the number, named Scott, fell sick and could not travel. The others remained with him, until the sufferer, despairing of ever beholding his home, prevailed on his companions to abandon him. They left him alone in the wilderness, several miles from this spot. Here human bones were afterwards found; and, supposing he had crawled here and died, the subsequent travelers have given his name to the neighboring bluff.[31]

June 25. Our camp is stationary to-day; part of the emigrants are shoeing their horses and oxen; others are trading at the fort and with the Indians. Flour, sugar, coffee, tea, tobacco, powder and lead, sell readily, at high prices. In the {26} afternoon we gave the Indians a feast, and held a long talk with them. Each family, as they could best spare it, contributed a portion of bread, meat, coffee or sugar, which being cooked, a table was set by spreading buffalo skins upon the ground, and arranging the provisions upon them.

Around this attractive board, the Indian chiefs and their principal men seated themselves, occupying one fourth of the circle; the remainder of the male Indians made out the semi-circle; the rest of the circle was completed by the whites. The squaws and younger Indians formed an outer semicircular row immediately behind their dusky lords and fathers. Two stout young warriors were now designated as waiters, and all the preparations being completed, the Indian chiefs and principal men shook hands, and at a signal the white chief performed the same ceremony, commencing with the principal chief, and saluting him and those of his followers who composed the first division of the circle; the others being considered inferiors, were not thus noticed.

The talk preceded the dinner. A trader acted as interpreter. The chief informed us, that "a long while ago some white chiefs passed up the Missouri, through his country, saying they were the red man's friends, and that as the red man found them, so would he find all the other pale faces. This country belongs to the red man, but his white brethren travels through, shooting the game and scaring it away. Thus the Indian loses all that he depends upon to support his wives and children. The children of the red man cry for food, but there is no food. But on the other hand, the Indian profits by the trade with the white man. He was glad to see us and meet us as friends. It was the custom when the pale faces passed through his country, to make presents to the Indians of powder, lead, &c. His tribe was very numerous, but the most of the people had gone to the mountains to hunt. Before the white man came, the game was tame, and easily caught, with the bow and arrow. Now the white man has frightened it, and the red man must go to the mountains. The red man needed long guns." This, with much more of the like, made up the talk of the chief, when a reply from our side was expected.

As it devolved on me to play the part of the white chief, I told my red brethren, that we were journeying to the great waters of the west. Our great father owned a large country there, and we were going to settle upon it. For this purpose we brought with us our wives and little ones. We were compelled {27} to pass through the red man's country, but we traveled as friends, and not as enemies. As friends we feasted them, shook them by the hand, and smoked with them the pipe of peace. They must know that we came among them as friends, for we brought with us our wives and children. The red man does not take his squaws into battle: neither does the pale face. But friendly as we felt, we were ready for enemies; and if molested, we should punish the offenders. Some of us expected to return. Our fathers, our brothers and our children were coming behind us, and we hoped the red man would treat them kindly. We did not expect to meet so many of them; we were glad to see them, and to hear that they were the white man's friends. We met peacefully—so let us part. We had set them a feast, and were glad to hold a talk with them; but we were not traders, and had no powder or ball to give them. We were going to plough and to plant the ground, and had nothing more than we needed for ourselves. We told them to eat what was before them, and be satisfied; and that we had nothing more to say.

The two Indian servants began their services by placing a tin cup before each of the guests, always waiting first upon the chiefs; they then distributed the bread and cakes, until each person had as much as it was supposed he would eat; the remainder being delivered to two squaws, who in like manner served the squaws and children. The waiters then distributed the meat and coffee. All was order. No one touched the food before him until all were served, when at a signal from the chief the eating began. Having filled themselves, the Indians retired, taking with them all that they were unable to eat.

This is a branch of the Sioux nation, and those living in this region number near fifteen hundred lodges.[32] They are a healthy, athletic, good-looking set of men, and have according to the Indian code, a respectable sense of honor, but will steal when they can do so without fear of detection. On this occasion, however, we missed nothing but a frying pan, which a squaw slipped under her blanket, and made off with. As it was a trifling loss, we made no complaint to the chief.

Here are two forts. Fort Laramie, situated upon the west side of Laramie's fork, two miles from Platte river, belongs to the North American Fur Company.[33]

The fort is built of adobes. The walls are about two feet thick, and twelve or fourteen feet high, the tops being picketed or spiked. Posts are planted in these walls, and support the timber for the roof. {28} They are then covered with mud. In the centre is an open square, perhaps twenty-five yards each way, along the sides of which are ranged the dwellings, store rooms, smith shop, carpenter's shop, offices, &c., all fronting upon the inner area. There are two principal entrances; one at the north, the other at the south. On the eastern side is an additional wall, connected at its extremities with the first, enclosing ground for stables and carrell. This enclosure has a gateway upon its south side, and a passage into the square of the principal enclosure. At a short distance from the fort is a field of about four acres, in which, by way of experiment, corn is planted; but from its present appearance it will probably prove a failure. Fort John stands about a mile below Fort Laramie, and is built of the same material as the latter, but is not so extensive. Its present occupants are a company from St. Louis.[34]

June 26. This day, leaving Fort Laramie behind us, we advanced along the bank of the river, into the vast region that was still between us and our destination. After moving five miles, we found a good spot for a camp, and as our teams still required rest, we halted and encamped, and determined to repose until Saturday the 28th.

June 28. A drive of ten miles brought us to Big Spring, a creek which bursts out at the base of a hill, and runs down a sandy hollow. The spring is one fourth of a mile below the road. We found the water too warm to be palatable.[35] Five miles beyond the creek the road forks; we took the right hand trail, which is the best of the two, and traversed the Black Hills, as they are called. The season has been so dry that vegetation is literally parched up; of course the grazing is miserable. After proceeding eighteen miles we encamped on Bitter Cottonwood.[36]

June 29. To-day we find the country very rough, though our road is not bad. In the morning some of our cattle were missing, and four of the company started back to hunt for them. At the end of fourteen miles we rested at Horse Shoe creek, a beautiful stream of clear water, lined with trees, and with wide bottoms on each side, covered with excellent grass. At this point our road was about three miles from the river.[37]

July 1. As the men who left the company on the 29th, to look for our lost cattle, were not returned, we remained in {29} camp yesterday. Game seemed abundant along the creek, and our efforts to profit by it were rewarded with three elk and three deer. To-day our cattle hunters still remain behind. We sent back a reinforcement, and hitching up our teams advanced about sixteen miles. Eight miles brought us to the Dalles of Platte, where the river bursts through a mountain spur. Perpendicular cliffs, rising abruptly from the water, five hundred or six hundred feet high, form the left bank of the river. These cliffs present various strata, some resembling flint, others like marble, lime, &c. The most interesting feature of these magnificent masses, is the variety of colors that are presented; yellow, red, black and white, and all the shades between, as they blend and are lost in each other. On the top nods a tuft of scrubby cedars. Upon the south side, a narrow slope between the bluff and river, affords a pass for a footman along the water's edge, while beyond the bluff rises abruptly. Frequently cedar and wild sage is to be seen. I walked up the river a distance of half a mile, when I reached a spot where the rocks had tumbled down, and found something of a slope, by which I could, with the assistance of a long pole, and another person sometimes pushing and then pulling, ascend; we succeeded in clambering up to the top—which proved to be a naked, rough black rock, with here and there a scrubby cedar and wild sage bush. It appeared to be a place of resort for mountain sheep and bears. We followed this ridge south to where it gradually descended to the road. The river in this kanyon is about one hundred and fifty yards wide, and looks deep.[38] At the eastern end of this kanyon comes in a stream which, from appearance, conveys torrents of water at certain seasons of the year. Here, too, is a very good camp. By going up the right hand branch five or six miles, then turning to the right up one of the ridges, and crossing a small branch (which joins the river six or seven miles above the kanyon) and striking the road on the ridge three miles east of the Big Timber creek, a saving might be made of at least ten miles travel. We did not travel this route; but, from the appearance of the country, there would be no difficulty.

July 2. This day we traveled about sixteen miles. The road left the river bottom soon after we started. A trail, however, crosses the bottom for about two miles, and then winds back to the hill. The nearest road is up a small sandy ravine, for two miles, then turn to the right up a ridge, and follow this ridge for eight or ten miles. At the distance of thirteen {30} or fourteen miles, the road which turned to the left near the Big Spring, connects with this. The road then turns down the hill to the right, into a dry branch, which it descends to Big Timber creek, where we encamped.[39]

July 3. This day we traveled about fifteen miles. Six miles brought us to a small branch, where is a good camp. Near this branch there is abundance of marble, variegated with blue and red, but it is full of seams. The hills in this vicinity are of the red shale formation. In the mountain near by is stone coal. The hills were generally covered with grass. The streams are lined with cotton wood, willow and boxalder. The road was very dusty.

July 4. We traveled about fifteen miles to-day, the road generally good, with a few difficult places. Two wagons upset, but little damage was done. We crossed several beautiful streams flowing from the Black hills; they are lined with timber. To-day, as on yesterday, we found abundance of red, yellow and black currants, with some gooseberries, along the streams.

July 5. We this day traveled about twelve miles. Three miles brought us to Deer creek.[40] Here is an excellent camp ground. Some very good bottom land. The banks are lined with timber. Stone coal was found near the road. This would be a suitable place for a fort, as the soil and timber is better than is generally found along the upper Platte. Game in abundance, such as elk, buffalo, deer, antelope and bear. The timber is chiefly cotton wood, but there is pine on the mountains within ten or twelve miles. The road was generally along the river bottom, and much of the way extremely barren. We encamped on the bank of the river.

July 6. In traveling through the sand and hot sun, our wagon tires had become loose; and we had wedged until the tire would no longer remain on the wheels. One or two axletrees and tongues had been broken, and we found it necessary to encamp and repair them. For this purpose all hands were busily employed. We had neither bellows nor anvil, and of course could not cut and weld tire. But as a substitute, we took off the tire, shaved thin hoops and tacked them on the felloes, heated our tire and replaced it. This we found to answer a good purpose.

July 7. This day we traveled about ten miles. In crossing a small ravine, an axletree of one of the wagons was broken. {31} The road is mostly on the river bottom. Much of the country is barren.

July 8. Six miles travel brought us to the crossing of the north fork of the Platte. At 1 o'clock, P. M. all were safely over, and we proceeded up half a mile to a grove of timber and encamped.[41] Near the crossing was encamped Colonel Kearney's regiment of dragoons, on their return from the South Pass. Many of them were sick.

July 9. We traveled about ten miles this day, and encamped at the Mineral Spring. The road leaves the Platte at the crossing, and passes over the Red Buttes.[42] The plains in this region are literally covered with buffalo.

July 10. To-day we traveled about ten miles. The range is very poor, and it has become necessary to divide into small parties, in order to procure forage for our cattle. Out of the company five divisions were formed. In my division we had eleven wagons; and we travel more expeditiously, with but little difficulty in finding grass for our cattle.

July 11. We this day traveled about twelve miles. Soon after starting we passed an excellent spring: it is to the right of the road, in a thicket of willows. One fourth of a mile further the road ascends a hill, winds round and passes several marshy springs. The grass is very good, but is confined to patches. Our camp was on a small branch running into the Sweet Water.

July 12. This day we arrived at Independence Rock. This is a solitary pile of gray granite, standing in an open plain. It is about one-eighth of a mile long and some six or eight rods wide, and is elevated about sixty or seventy feet above the plain. On the north-eastern side the slope is sufficiently gradual to be easily ascended. Portions of it are covered with inscriptions of the names of travelers, with the dates of their arrival—some carved, some in black paint, and others in red. Sweet Water, a stream heading in the Wind River Mountains, and entering the Platte, runs immediately along its southern side, leaving a strip of some twenty or thirty feet of grassy plain between the base of the rock and the creek. We encamped two miles above the rock, having traveled about thirteen miles.[43]

July 13. We traveled about thirteen miles this day. Three miles brought us to the Gap, or Devil's Gate, as it is sometimes called. The Sweet Water breaks through a spur of the mountain, which from appearance is four or five hundred feet high. {32} On the south side the rocks project over the stream, but on the north slope back a little. The whole mountain is a mass of gray granite rock, destitute of vegetation, save an occasional scrubby cedar or bush of artemisia. From where the creek enters to where it emerges from this kanyon is three or four hundred yards. The water rushes through like a torrent. At the distance of one hundred rods south of this is the Gap, where the road passes; but the rock is not so high. South of this again is another gap, perhaps half or three-fourths of a mile wide. The rocks there rise mountain high.[44] South-west of this is a valley extending as far as the eye can penetrate. As the road passes through this gap, it bears to the right, up the valley of the Sweet Water.

July 14. This day we traveled about twenty-two miles. The road sometimes leaves the creek for several miles, and passes over a barren, sandy plain; no kind of vegetation but the wild sage. We this day met a party of men from California and Oregon. A portion of those from California spoke unfavorably of that country; and those from Oregon spoke highly of the latter country. On this day's march we came in sight of the long-looked-for snowcapped mountains. They were the Wind River Mountains. On our right is a mass of naked rock; on our left and to the distance of ten or twelve miles is a high range of mountains, mostly covered with timber; whilst in the valley there is no timber, and much of the plain entirely destitute of vegetation. We encamped near the Narrows.[45]

July 15. We traveled about eleven miles to-day. There are two trails, which diverge below the Narrows. The nearest and best is that to the right up the creek, crossing it several times; they unite again near where we encamped. The road was good, but as usual very dusty. Our hunters wounded a buffalo, and drove him into camp. About twenty men ran to meet him. He gave them battle. They fired a volley that brought him to his knees, and whilst in that position Mr. Creighton (a young man from Ohio) ran across the creek, intending to shoot the animal in the head. When Creighton had approached within ten or twelve feet, the enraged animal sprung to his feet and made at him. Creighton wheeled and "split" for the camp; the buffalo pursuing to near the bank of the creek, where he stopped. By this time others had arrived with guns, and the buffalo was compelled to yield. In the "spree" one of my horses was shot with a ball in the {33} knee; no bones were broken, and he was able to travel, but he was a long time very lame.

July 16. This day we traveled about twenty-six miles. Four miles brought us to a marshy bottom, where was very good grass. In the centre of this quagmire and near where the road crosses the bottom is a spring of good water. Eight miles brought us to a small stream; but little grass. Six miles brought us to Sweet Water; crossed and left it and struck it again in six or eight miles. The grass here is good. Wild sage was our only fuel. This night there was a heavy frost.

July 17. Our cattle being much fatigued, we drove but five miles. The road is up the creek bottom, which is mostly covered with grass. A heavy frost: ice formed in buckets one-fourth of an inch thick. We here found the celebrated mountaineer Walker, who was traveling to Bridger's fort.[46]

July 18. We traveled about twenty-two miles this day. The road ascends the bluff and winds among rocky hills for six miles, passing over ledges that are entirely naked for rods. The appearance of the country is extremely barren. We passed several rivulets where small parties may obtain grazing for their stock. The day has been quite cold. The Wind River Mountains are on our right, about twenty miles distant. They presented a most grand appearance. Huge masses of ice and snow piled up peak upon peak, with large bodies of timber covering portions of the mountains. We viewed the southern termination of this range; but they extend to the north further than the eye can penetrate. The country between us and the mountains is rolling, and much of it apparently barren. Hard frost.

July 19. This morning we ascended the bank on the south side of Sweet Water. Six miles brought us again to the creek, where is good grass in the bottom and willow for fuel. We crossed, went up the bottom two miles, and crossed back and left the Sweet Water. This day we passed over the dividing ridge which separates the waters flowing into the Atlantic from those which find their way into the Pacific Ocean. We had reached the summit of the Rocky Mountains. Six miles brought us to a spring, the waters of which run into Green river, or the great Colorado of the west.[47]—Here, then, we hailed Oregon. Here we found a bottom covered with good grass, where we halted until four o'clock, P. M., when we again hitched up and took the plain for Little Sandy. Ten miles brought us to a dry branch, where by digging to the {34} depth of one foot we procured water; but it was brackish, and had a very unpleasant taste. A white sediment, such as we had noticed elsewhere on the road, covered the surface of the ground. Ten miles more brought us to Little Sandy, which we reached at one o'clock in the night, having traveled thirty-one miles. The road was over a barren plain of light sand, and was very dusty. From the spring to Little Sandy there is no vegetation but the wild sage, and it had a withered appearance. The night was cold, freezing quite hard. Little Sandy has its source in the Wind river mountains.[48] Along this stream is a narrow bottom, covered with grass and willows. We are now out of the range of the buffalo, and although not often mentioned, we have seen thousands of these huge animals. There have been so many companies of emigrants in advance of us, that they have frightened the buffalo from the road. We daily see hundreds of antelope.

July 20. This day we traveled about thirteen miles, to Big Sandy. The road was over a level sandy plain, covered with wild sage. At Little Sandy the road forks—one taking to the right and striking Big Sandy in six miles, and thence forty miles to Green river, striking the latter some thirty or forty miles above the lower ford, and thence to Big Bear river, striking it about fifteen miles below the old road. By taking this trail two and a half days' travel may be saved; but in the forty miles between Big Sandy and Green river there is no water, and but little grass. Camps may be had within reasonable distances between Green and Bear rivers.[49] The left hand trail, which we took, twelve miles from Little Sandy strikes the Big Sandy, follows down it and strikes Green river above the mouth of Big Sandy.

July 21. We traveled about fourteen miles to-day. Six miles brought us to Green river, or Colorado. This is a beautiful clear stream, about one hundred yards wide, with a rapid current over a gravelly bottom. It flows through a barren, sandy country; occasionally the bottoms spread to a mile in width, covered with grass. There is mostly a belt of timber along the banks of the stream.—Emigrants had been in the habit of crossing the river on rafts. We succeeded in finding a place where, by hoisting up the wagon-beds six inches, we could ford the river without damaging our goods. This was done by cutting poles and placing them under the wagon-beds, and in one hour we were all safely over. We proceeded down the river eight miles, and encamped in a grove near some {35} cabins built by a party of traders. There is an abundance of fish in this stream, and we had great sport in fishing.

July 23. This day we traveled about fifteen miles. The road leaves Green river near our camp, and passes over a high, barren country, to Black's fork; this we followed up some four miles and encamped.[50] As upon other streams, there is occasionally a grassy bottom with a little cotton wood and willow brush. Snowy mountains to be seen in the south.

July 24. We traveled, to-day, about fourteen miles, over a barren country, crossing the creek several times. We noticed a number of piles of stone and earth, some forty or fifty feet high, scattered in different directions, giving the appearance of the general surface having been worn away to that extent by the ravages of time and the elements.

July 25. This day we traveled about sixteen miles, crossed the creek several times, and encamped near Fort Bridger. This is a trading fort owned by Bridger and Bascus. It is built of poles and daubed with mud; it is a shabby concern.[51] Here are about twenty-five lodges of Indians, or rather white trappers' lodges occupied by their Indian wives. They have a good supply of robes, dressed deer, elk and antelope skins, coats, pants, moccasins, and other Indian fixens, which they trade low for flour, pork, powder, lead, blankets, butcher-knives, spirits, hats, ready made clothes, coffee, sugar, &c. They ask for a horse from twenty-five to fifty dollars, in trade. Their wives are mostly of the Pyentes and Snake Indians.[52] They have a herd of cattle, twenty-five or thirty goats and some sheep. They generally abandon this fort during the winter months. At this place the bottoms are wide, and covered with good grass. Cotton wood timber in plenty. The stream abounds with trout.

July 26. Remained at the fort the whole of this day.

July 27. We traveled about eight miles, to-day, to Little Muddy. The grazing and water bad. Several bad hills.

July 28. To-day we traveled about sixteen miles. Ten miles brought us to the Big Muddy.[53] Country barren. Our course is up the Big Muddy, and nearly north. Encamped on the creek. Very poor grazing. This is a limestone country.

July 29. This day we traveled about sixteen miles. Our course is still up the Muddy. Emigrants would do well to push on up to near the head of this creek, as the grass is good, {36} and there are excellent springs of water. The country is very rough. We saw a few beaver dams.

July 30. We traveled about twenty-five miles this day. Twelve miles brought us to the dividing ridge between the waters of Green and Bear rivers. The ridge is high, but the ascent is not difficult. From this ridge the scenery is most delightful. In one view is the meanders of Muddy creek. Two companies with large herds of cattle are winding their way up the valley.

The bold mountains on either side are very high and rugged. In front and at the distance of twelve miles is the valley of Big Bear river. A ravine at our feet cuts the spur of the mountain, and empties its waters into Bear river. The valley of Bear river is four or five miles wide, with willows along its banks. At a distance beyond the Bear river is a range of high mountains, stretching as far as the eye can reach, their snowy tops glistening in the rays of the sun. The mountains near the trail are rough and have a singular appearance; the earth being of various colors—black, white, red, yellow, and intermediate shades. Occasionally there is a grove of quaking aspen, and a few sour-berry bushes and some cedar. Our camp to-night was on Bear river; the bottom is sandy, and mostly covered with wild sage.[54]

July 31. This day we traveled down Bear river fifteen miles. The bottom is from two to four miles wide, and mostly covered with good grass. The road excellent. We encamped two miles above Smith's fork. The upper road from Green river comes in two miles back.

August 1. We traveled fifteen miles this day. Two miles brought us to Smith's fork. This is a bold, clear, and beautiful stream, coming in from the east. It is about fifteen yards wide, lined with timber and undergrowth.[55] In this stream is an abundance of mountain trout, some of them very large. The road leads down the bottom of Bear river three miles to Spring branch, one mile to the Narrows and three miles to the first crossing of Bear river.[56] Here are two trails. The nearest turns to the right up a creek for a mile and a half, crosses the creek and passes over the hill, and strikes the other trail at the foot of Big Hill, six miles from the crossings. The other trail crosses the river, follows up its bottom round the bend for eight miles, to where it crosses the river, then follows down the bottom three miles, and takes up a valley for one mile to the foot of the Big Hill, where it intersects the other trail. This is the most level road, but the other is not a bad one. {37} The hills bordering on Bear river on this day's travel are very high and rugged; they are covered with grass. The bottoms are from one to four miles wide. We saw this day large herds of antelope. We encamped in the bend of the river, near the second crossings.

August 2. This day we traveled about nineteen miles. Four or five miles brought us to the big hill or mountain. It is about half a mile to the top of the first ridge, and quite steep. The road then turns a few rods to the right, then to the left down a ravine for three hundred yards, and then up a ravine for half a mile to the top of the mountain. We traveled about two miles along the ridge, and then turned to the left down the mountain. It is about one mile to the plain, and generally very steep and stony; but all reached the plain safely, and were truly thankful that they had safely passed one of the most difficult mountains on the road. From the top of this mountain we had a most delightful view of the surrounding country. This is one of the ranges which border this stream. At this place they close in upon both sides so as not to admit of a passage with teams along the river. A road could easily be cut around the point, and save the fatigue of climbing this mountain; the distance would not be materially increased. The valley of Bear river bears off to the northwest, and can be seen a great distance. From the south comes in a broad valley, up which can be seen Bear Lake. A high range of mountains separates it from the river. The outlet of this lake is two or three miles below the narrows made by this mountain.[57] A high range of snow covered mountains can be seen to the southwest. The road strikes the river two miles from the foot of the mountain, at Big Timber. Here is a good camp. Eight miles brought us to a spring branch. The bottom here is wide; a low marsh prevents driving to the river. The grass is good. There is a little timber on the mountains. At Big Timber is a company of trappers and traders attached to Bridger's party.

August 3. We traveled about fourteen miles, crossing a number of spring branches, coming in from the mountains. These branches abound in trout. The ground, for a strip of about four miles, was covered with black crickets of a large size. I saw some that were about three inches in length, and measuring about three-fourths of an inch in diameter; but the common size were two inches in length and one-half or five-eighths of an inch in diameter; their legs were large in proportion {38} to the size of their bodies. Some were singing on stalks of wild sage; others crawling in every direction. Our teams made great havoc among them; so numerous were they that we crushed them at every step. As soon as one was killed, others of them would alight upon it and devour it. The bottoms are wide, and covered with grass, and the soil looks well. A few patches of snow were seen upon the mountain some ten miles distant. A portion of the mountain is covered with fine timber. The bottoms are rolling.

August 4. We reached the Soda springs, having traveled about eight miles.[58] The first view we had was of two or three white hillocks or mounds, standing up at different points to the right of the road, and near a grove of cedar and pine timber. One of them is about ten rods long at the base, and three or four rods in width; its elevation is probably twenty-five or thirty feet from the plain in which it is situated. The size of these mounds continually increases, as the water oozes out at different points, and produces a crust which becomes quite hard. The rocks, for miles around, are of the soda formation. Upon these mounds the water is warm. In a small bottom, immediately before reaching the first of these mounds, and about two hundred yards above the road, is a hole about eight feet in diameter; in this is a pool of water, strongly impregnated with soda. I had no means of ascertaining the depth, but believe it to be considerable; at one edge of it the water was boiling and sparkling; it would sometimes swell four inches above the surface. This pool, and others contiguous, affords excellent drinking water; it was cool, and, when sweetened, would compare favourably with any soda water. Just below the mound, and near the grove, is a rapid stream of water, coursing over a rocky bottom, formed by soda. At the crossing of this creek, and below the road, is a morass; and immediately on the bank of the rivulet, is a crevice in the rock, from which a small stream of water issues; this was the best to drink of any I found. After crossing the creek, the distance to the springs generally resorted to is about three-fourths of a mile; they boil up in every direction. Several mounds have been formed, of ten feet in height. The water has found some other passage, and left them to moulder away. The centre or middle of these are concave. The surface of the earth here is some twelve or fifteen feet above the level of the river, the bank of which is of rock, of the soda formation. A grove of cedar and pine timber extends from the river back to {39} the mountain, a distance of two and a half or three miles; the space between the road and the river is covered with grass; but between it and the mountain it is barren of vegetation of any kind. The soda has left a sediment, which is now crumbled and loose, with an occasional mound of ten or twelve feet elevation, but no water running. The river here is about one hundred yards in width, and about eighteen inches in depth, running very rapidly. The soda water is bubbling up in every direction, and sometimes rises six inches above the surface of the river. This bubbling extends for near half a mile. A stream comes in from the north at the western edge of the springs, tumbles over the rocks, and finally into the river. Near where one branch of this falls over the rock (it has several passages where the road crosses it) is a circular basin in the rock, being two feet in diameter at the top, but larger below. It was covered with grass; and, in walking along, I barely avoided stepping into it; whilst at its edge the purling or gurgling of the water, as it boils up, apprized me of its vicinity. The surface of the water is about three feet below the top of the rock. The water is cool, much more so than the water of the springs, and is remarkably clear.

Three hundred yards below the crossing of this branch, and immediately on the bank of the river, is the Steamboat Spring.[59] The water has formed a small cone of about two and a half feet in height, and three feet in diameter, at the base. A hole of six inches in diameter at the top, allows the water to discharge itself. It swells out at intervals of eight or ten seconds, and sometimes flows four or five feet in disjointed fragments. It is lukewarm, and has a milky appearance; but when taken in a vessel becomes as transparent as crystal. It produces a sound similar to the puffing of a steamboat, but not quite so deep. It can frequently be heard at the distance of a quarter of a mile. About six feet from this is a small fissure in the rock, which is called the escape-pipe or gas-pipe. It makes a hissing noise, corresponding with the belching of the spring. The gas emitted from this fissure is so strong that it would suffocate a person, holding his head near the ground. To the rear of this, across the road, are mounds fifty or sixty feet in height; these were entirely dry. Up this creek is very good grazing for cattle, but there are found some marshy places contiguous. The bottom upon the opposite side of the river is four or five miles in width, and covered with a good coat of grass. The soil looks good; and if the seasons are not too {40} short, would produce well. The mountain upon the south side is covered with heavy pine timber; on the north side but little timber was observed; what little was noticed consisted principally of scrubby cedars. Antelope found in abundance. The water, in many of the springs, is sufficiently strong to raise bread, equally as well as saleratus or yeast. Were it not for their remote situation, these springs would be much resorted to, especially during the summer months. The country is mountainous, and its altitude so great, that the air is always cool, and consequently must be healthy.

Companies wishing to remain for a length of time at the springs, would pursue a proper course in driving their cattle over the river, as good grazing can thereby be had.

August 5. We traveled about nineteen miles. Five miles brought us to where the road leaves the river, and bears northward through a valley. The river bears to the southward and empties its waters into Big Salt Lake.[60] The range of mountains bounding the north side of the river here comes to within a half mile of it, then bears off to the north, leaving a valley of about seven or eight miles in width between it and a range coming from Lewis river, and extending south towards Salt Lake. The range bounding the south side of the river comes abruptly to the stream at this point, presenting huge and cumbrous masses of basaltic rock, but it is generally covered with heavy timber. At this point two trails are found: one striking west, across the valley, to the opposite side; the other, which is the nearest and best, follows around the point, hugging the base of the mountain for several miles. Two and one half miles distant, and immediately beneath a cliff of rocks by the road side, is to be found a soda pool. A little spring of cool soda water runs out at the base of the rock, and a basin of eight or ten yards in extent, and about two and one half feet high has been formed. Inside of this, is a pool of water;—the material composing the bank around, is of a white color. In a few miles travel, we crossed several spring branches. We then directed our course through the plain for some eight or nine miles, to where we encamped. Our camp was located near a spring branch; but a small quantity of wood was found; grazing was excellent. From where the road leaves the river, the country presents every appearance of having been volcanic at some period. Craters are yet standing in the plain, exhibiting positive evidence of this fact. A large mound has been formed by the lava ejected from this crater. In the centre is {41} a deep cavity; now partially filled, from the falling in of the masses of bank surrounding it. In every direction the eye rests upon fragments of rock, which have been thrown out in a hot and burning condition, many of them melted and united; pieces resembling broken junk bottles or black glass lay scattered over the plain. The valley for ten or twelve miles is covered with stone of this description. In many places the rocks have been lifted or bulged up to an elevation of ten or fifteen feet, the top has been burst asunder, presenting a cavity of eight or ten feet in width, caused by the fragments having been cast out; the depth of the cavity is from twenty to thirty feet, the sides have a black appearance, and exhibit indications of having been burned; at other places the rock had been lifted up, and elevated above the surface of the earth some five or six feet, and about the same in width, having numerous small apertures in it, the centre being concave. The stone forms a complete arch. At other places the rock has been rent, and a chasm of thirty or forty feet in depth and from two to ten feet in width, has been the result. These chasms are about one quarter of a mile in length. The fragments lay in every direction.

The country over this plain is rather barren; but at certain seasons of the year, is covered with grass, which during the summer months dies, leaving but little appearance of vegetation. After we had halted for the night, three families who had separated from our company at the Soda Springs, passed us. A few hours had elapsed, and we espied one of their number returning post haste to our camp. When he arrived, he was so paralysed with fear, that it was with difficulty we obtained from him the cause of his alarm. It appeared evident, from his statement, that a party of Snake Indians meditated an attack upon their party. We dispatched a company to their relief, but soon had the gratification to witness the return of their wagons to our camp. It appears that one of their number had marched about two miles in advance of the wagons, when he was discovered by a party of Snake Indians, lurking in the vicinity, who immediately gave him chase, at every step uttering the most terrific yells, and endeavoured to surround him; but as he was astride a fleet American courser, he succeeded in outstripping them, and arrived at the wagons in time to prepare for their approach. The wagons were then in a deep ravine, and could not be seen, by the Indians in pursuit, until within seventy-five yards. As soon as the Indians discovered {42} their proximity to the wagons they commenced a precipitate retreat, and the emigrants rejoined our party.

August 6. We traveled this day about fifteen miles. The road for seven miles is up the valley; it then takes over the mountain, to the waters running into Snake or Lewis river. The high range of mountains which bears off towards Salt Lake, terminates near the road on the left. The road follows a ravine, and winds about among the hills, and thickets of quaking aspen, until it reaches a spring branch, down which it follows, to near Fort Hall. Over the ridge, and for two miles down the branch, there is but little grass found. At the distance of three miles, on our left up the mountain, were several patches of snow. A few of our party brought some of the snow to our camp.

August 7. This day we made about eighteen miles. For ten miles the road is very good. Along the stream is found willow brush, answering for fuel. The last seven miles is over a sandy plain; it was dry, and very heavy traveling. Our camp was at a large spring of cold water; grazing was very good.

August 8. We traveled but five miles, which brought us to Fort Hall.[61] This is a trading post in the possession of the Hudson's Bay Company. Like the forts on the east side of the mountains, it is built of mud or adobes. (This term applies to sun-burnt brick.) They are of a similar construction. At each corner is a bastion, projecting out some eight or ten feet, perforated with holes for fire-arms. Captain Grant is now the officer in command; he has the bearing of a gentleman.[62] The garrison was supplied with flour, which had been procured from the settlements in Oregon, and brought here on pack horses. They sold it to the emigrants for twenty dollars per cwt., taking cattle in exchange; and as many of the emigrants were nearly out of flour, and had a few lame cattle, a brisk trade was carried on between them and the inhabitants of the fort. In the exchange of cattle for flour, an allowance was made of from five to twelve dollars per head. They also had horses which they readily exchanged for cattle or sold for cash. The price demanded for horses was from fifteen to twenty-five dollars. They could not be prevailed upon to receive anything in exchange for their goods or provisions, excepting cattle or money.

The bottoms here are wide, and covered with grass. There is an abundance of wood for fuel, fencing, and other purposes. {43} No attempt has, as yet, been made to cultivate the soil. I think the drought too great; but if irrigation were resorted to, I doubt not it would produce some kinds of grain, such as wheat, corn, potatoes, &c.

Our camp was located one mile to the southwest of the fort; and as at all the other forts, the Indians swarmed about us. They are of the Snake tribe, and inhabit the country bordering on Lewis and Bear rivers, and their various tributaries. This tribe is said to be numerous; but in consequence of the continual wars which they have engaged in with the Sioux, Crows and Blackfeet, their numbers are rapidly diminishing.

Snake river, which flows within one half mile of the fort, is a clear and beautiful stream of water.[63] It courses over a pebbly bottom. Its width is about one hundred and fifty yards. It abounds in fish of different varieties, which are readily taken with the hook.

While we remained in this place, great efforts were made to induce the emigrants to pursue the route to California. The most extravagant tales were related respecting the dangers that awaited a trip to Oregon, and of the difficulties and trials to be surmounted. The perils of the way were so magnified as to make us suppose the journey to Oregon almost impossible. For instance, the two crossings of Snake river, and the crossing of the Columbia, and other smaller streams, were represented as being attended with great danger; also that no company heretofore attempting the passage of these streams, succeeded, but with the loss of men, from the violence and rapidity of the current; as also that they had never succeeded in getting more than fifteen or twenty head of cattle into the Willamette valley. In addition to the above, it was asserted that three or four tribes of Indians, in the middle region, had combined for the purpose of preventing our passage through their country, and should we attempt it, we would be compelled to contend with these hostile tribes. In case we escaped destruction at the hands of the savages, a more fearful enemy, that of famine, would attend our march; as the distance was so great that winter would overtake us before making the passage of the Cascade Mountains.

On the other hand, as an inducement to pursue the California route, we were informed of the shortness of the route, when compared with that to Oregon; as also of many other superior advantages it possessed.

{44} These tales, told and rehearsed, were likely to produce the effect of turning the tide of emigration thither. Mr. Greenwood, an old mountaineer, well stocked with falsehoods, had been dispatched from California to pilot the emigrants through;[64] and assisted by a young man by the name of McDougal, from Indiana, so far succeeded as to induce thirty-five or thirty-six wagons to take that trail.[65]

About fifteen wagons had been fitted out, expressly for California; and, joined by the thirty-five afore-mentioned, completed a train of fifty wagons; what the result of their expedition has been, I have not been able to learn.[66]

August 9. This day we traveled about eight miles; five miles brought us to the crossing of Portneth. This is a stream heading in the mountains near the Soda Springs, receiving numerous branches in this bottom, and is here about eighty yards in width.[67] From this place, it is one mile to the crossing of a narrow slough, with steep banks. We crossed, and journeyed two miles to the bank of Snake river, where we encamped. Eight wagons joined us at our encampment.

August 10. We remained in camp.

August 11. This day we traveled about eight miles; which brought us to within one mile of the American falls.[68] Our camp was at the springs. An island in the river afforded excellent grazing for cattle. The country is extremely barren, being sandy sage plains.[69]

August 12. We traveled about fifteen miles, which brought us to Levy creek, or Beaver-dam creek, as it is sometimes termed; it is a small stream; its waters flow down a succession of falls, producing a handsome cascade: it has the appearance of having been built up by beaver. The property of the water has turned the material into stone; the water appears to be impregnated with soda; the rocks along the bank are of that formation.[70] The best camp is two miles farther on.

August 13. This day we traveled about eight miles, to Cassia creek; here the California trail turns off. The road {45} has been very dusty and heavy traveling. The country presents the same usual barren appearance.[71]

August 14. This day we traveled about fifteen miles, and reached marshy springs; the road has been stony and dusty; the country mostly destitute of vegetation—nothing growing but the wild sage and wormwood.[72]

August 15. We traveled but eleven miles. The road runs over a sage plain for eight miles, when it crosses the stream from the marsh; no water running, and but little standing in pools. At the distance of three miles the road strikes the river bottom, at the lower end of this, at which place the road leaves it; here was found a good camp.

August 16. We traveled about twenty-three miles. Four miles brought us to Goose creek. We found difficulty in crossing, and no good location for a camp.[73] After seven miles travel we reached the river; but little grass. Twelve miles brought us to Dry Branch; here also was unsuitable ground for encamping, as the water was standing in pools. The road we traveled was very dusty, and portions of it quite stony; here the river runs through a rocky kanyon. The cliffs are sometimes of the height of one thousand feet, and nearly perpendicular.[74] Above the kanyon, the river is two or three hundred yards wide; but at this place it is not more than one hundred and fifty feet; and at one place, where there is a fall of some twenty feet, its width does not exceed seventy-five feet. In our march this day I attempted to get down to the river, to procure a drink of water, but for six miles was unable to do so, owing to the steep precipitous banks.

August 17. We traveled but eight miles. The road lay over a sage plain to the bottom on Rock creek.[75] Here we found a very good camp.

August 18. This day we traveled about twenty miles. After the distance of eight miles we arrived at the crossing of Rock creek, (in a kanyon,) here we halted for dinner, and gave our cattle water. We then took up the bluff, and traveled over sand and sage plains for about twelve miles. When night overtook us we drove to the top of the river bluff and encamped. We drove our cattle one and a half miles down the bluff to the river for water. Here we found a little grass and green brush, but it was not sufficient in quantity to supply our cattle, and we could do no better. We packed water up the bluff to our camp. The bluffs at this place exceed one thousand feet in height; they are of basalt. The road is on a high barren {46} plain; a range of mountains is on our left hard by, and at a great distance on our right another range appears.

August 19. We traveled about twelve miles. Nine miles brought us to where we pass down to the river bottom; from this point the distance to the river was three miles. A warm spring branch empties itself into the river at this place. Emigrants would pursue a more proper course by encamping on the bottom, near the source of Rock creek, then drive down to where the road crosses in a kanyon, then following the road for eight or nine miles to where the road leaves the bluff of the creek and encamp, driving their cattle into the creek bottom. From this place they can drive to Salmon Fall creek, just four miles below our present encampment, follow down this creek to its mouth, where will be found an excellent camp.

August 20. We traveled about nine miles, reaching the Salmon Falls.[76] Here are eighteen or twenty Indian huts. Salmon come up to these falls: the Indians have an abundance of them, which they very readily dispose of for hooks, powder, balls, clothing, calico and knives, and in fact for almost anything we have at our disposal.

The river at this place is a succession of cataracts for several miles, the highest of which does not exceed twelve feet. The grazing was very poor, and the country barren as usual.

August 21. We traveled about twelve miles; for two miles the road is up a sandy hill, it then strikes a sandy sage plain, over which it takes its course for ten miles. Here night overtook us, as we had commenced our march at a very late hour on account of having lost some horses. Our camp was on the top of the river bluff. It is one mile to water; but little grass was found. This day we found several head of cattle that had given out from fatigue of traveling. Some of the companies had been racing, endeavoring to pass each other, and now they have reached a region where but little grass is found—are beginning to reap the reward of their folly.

August 22. Our cattle were so much scattered that it was late in the day when we prepared to resume our march. We traveled about ten miles. At night we left the road, and directed our course to the right, down a ravine to the river, where we encamped. Our cattle suffered much for want of food.

August 23. This morning we turned up the ravine for one and a half miles, and then struck up the hill to the road. Three and a half miles brought us to where the road crosses {47} the Snake river. In coming down to the river bottom, there is a very steep hill. Along the shore of this river was a little grass; there are two islands covered with grass, so that our cattle were soon repaid for their privations heretofore. The difficulties attending the crossing of this stream had been represented as being almost insurmountable; but upon examination we found it an exaggeration. From the main shore to first island there is no difficulty; from first to second island, turn well up, until nearly across, then bear down to where the road enters it. The water is not deep until nearly across, and not then if you keep well up stream. From second island to main shore is more difficult; it is about three hundred yards wide and the current very rapid. Strike in, heading well up for two rods, then quartering a little down until eight or ten rods from shore: then quartering a little up for fifteen or twenty rods; then strike up for the coming out place; the bottom is gravelly. With the exception of a few holes, the water for the first fifteen rods is the deepest part of the ford. The bottom is very uneven; there are holes found of six or eight feet in width, many of them swimming. Those crossing this stream can escape the deepest of these holes by having horsemen in the van and at each side; it is necessary that there be attached to each wagon four or six yoke of oxen, the current being swift; and in the passage of these holes, previously alluded to, when one yoke is compelled to swim, the others may be in shallow water. Great care must be taken that these teams be not beat down too low and pass over the ripple; and to prevent such a casualty, two drivers must attend each wagon. Before attempting the passage of the river all articles liable to damage, from coming in contact with the water, should be piled on the top of the wagon bed. We commenced crossing at eleven o'clock, A. M., and at one o'clock, P. M., we effected the passage of the stream, and were so fortunate as to land our goods free from all damage. We traveled two miles to a spring branch and pitched our encampment. Good grass, wood and water, were procured in plenty.[77]

August 24. We traveled but six miles. Soon after leaving camp we directed our course up a stony hill; thence over a sage plain to a spring branch.[78] We pursued our way up this branch for one mile, where we obtained good grazing for our cattle; a high range of hills appearing on our right, at the distance of two miles, an occasional grove of pine timber upon them; but, in general, the mountains here are covered with {48} grass; numerous streams issuing from their sides, and pouring their waters in the plain below. There is no appearance of vegetation until you reach the low bottoms immediately along the water's edge. The road traveled to-day was quite stony.

The Indians along this road are expert in theft and roguery. A young man having a horse which he had taken much pains to get along, when night approached, staked and hobbled him, that he might not stray off; but at night an Indian stole into the camp, unhobbled the horse, cut the rope, and took him off, leaving the young man undisturbed in his sleep. A few days thereafter, this Indian effected a sale of the horse to one of a party of emigrants traveling behind us.

August 25. We remained in camp.

August 26. We traveled about ten miles; our camp was located on a small rivulet, at a quarter of a mile's distance above the road, and near the mouth of the Hot Spring branch. Between the road and the mountain good grazing was found. The river is about eight miles on our left; the space between is a barren, sandy sage plain.

August 27. We traveled about sixteen miles; one mile brought us to the Hot Springs, near which the road passes.[79] These springs are in a constant state of ebullition. They number from five to six, extending over a surface of two to three yards, all uniting and forming a stream of one yard in width and about three inches deep, running quite rapid. The water is sufficiently hot for culinary purposes. About fifteen rods off, approaching the mountain, which is half a mile distant, are similar springs, the waters of which flow into a reservoir a short distance below. An ox, belonging to our party, appeared desirous to test the qualities of the water afforded by these springs. His owners, seeing his inclination, attempted to arrest his steps, but failed; when he arrived at the brink of one of them, and stuck his nose in, preparatory to indulging in a draught of the delicious nectar, he immediately wheeled, and made the welkin ring by his bellowing; kicking and running, he showed he was evidently displeased with himself. Our camp was on Barrel creek bottom, which is very narrow.

August 28. We traveled about eighteen miles, crossing several running branches. The road is near the base of the mountain; wild sage and grease wood found in plenty. Encamped on Charlotte's fork, a small branch.

August 29. We traveled about eighteen miles, which brought us to Bois river, a stream of forty or fifty yards in {49} width, and abounding in salmon; its banks are lined with Balm of Gilead timber.[80] The bottoms here are two or three miles wide, and covered with grass.

August 30. We traveled about eleven miles. The road is sometimes on bottom, at others, on bluff. The Indians are very numerous along this stream; they have a large number of horses; clothing is in much demand; for articles of clothing costing in the States ten or twelve dollars, a very good horse can be obtained.

August 31. We traveled about 14 miles. The road pursues its course down the valley of the Bois river.

September 1. We traveled about thirteen miles. Two miles from camp we crossed Bois river. Some of the bottoms are covered with grass, others with wild sage and grease wood. The road was very dusty. There is not much timber along the stream, but great quantities of brush.