Their Route Lay Up Along The
Right Fork Of Salmon River, As It Passes Through The Deep Defile
Of The Mountains.
They travelled very slowly, not above five
miles a day, for many of the horses were so weak that they
faltered and staggered as they walked.
Pasturage, however, was
now growing plentiful. There was abundance of fresh grass, which
in some places had attained such height as to wave in the wind.
The native flocks of the wilderness, the mountain sheep, as they
are called by the trappers, were continually to be seen upon the
hills between which they passed, and a good supply of mutton was
provided by the hunters, as they were advancing toward a region
of scarcity.
In the course of his journey Captain Bonneville had occasion to
remark an instance of the many notions, and almost superstitions,
which prevail among the Indians, and among some of the white men,
with respect to the sagacity of the beaver. The Indian hunters of
his party were in the habit of exploring all the streams along
which they passed, in search of "beaver lodges," and occasionally
set their traps with some success. One of them, however, though
an experienced and skilful trapper, was invariably unsuccessful.
Astonished and mortified at such unusual bad luck, he at length
conceived the idea that there was some odor about his person of
which the beaver got scent and retreated at his approach. He
immediately set about a thorough purification. Making a rude
sweating-house on the banks of the river, he would shut himself
up until in a reeking perspiration, and then suddenly emerging,
would plunge into the river.
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