The canoes approached
near enough to gain a full view of them, but they were not to be
brought to a parley.
All further progress for the day was barred by a fall in the
river of about thirty feet perpendicular; at the head of which
the party encamped for the night.
The next day was one of excessive toil and but little progress:
the river winding through a wild rocky country, and being
interrupted by frequent rapids, among which the canoes were in
great peril. On the succeeding day they again visited a camp of
wandering Snakes, but the inhabitants fled with terror at the
sight of a fleet of canoes, filled with white men, coming down
their solitary river.
As Mr. Hunt was extremely anxious to gain information concerning
his route, he endeavored by all kinds of friendly signs to entice
back the fugitives. At length one, who was on horseback, ventured
back with fear and trembling. He was better clad, and in better
condition, than most of his vagrant tribe that Mr. Hunt had yet
seen. The chief object of his return appeared to be to intercede
for a quantity of dried meat and salmon trout, which he had left
behind; on which, probably, he depended for his winter's
subsistence. The poor wretch approached with hesitation, the
alternate dread of famine and of white men operating upon his
mind. He made the most abject signs, imploring Mr. Hunt not to
carry off his food. The latter tried in every way to reassure
him, and offered him knives in exchange for his provisions; great
as was the temptation, the poor Snake could only prevail upon
himself to spare a part; keeping a feverish watch over the rest,
lest it should be taken away. It was in vain Mr. Hunt made
inquiries of him concerning his route, and the course of the
river. The Indian was too much frightened and bewildered to
comprehend him or to reply; he did nothing but alternately
commend himself to the protection of the Good Spirit, and
supplicate Mr. Hunt not to take away his fish and buffalo meat;
and in this state they left him, trembling about his treasures.
In the course of that and the next day they made nearly eight
miles; the river inclined to the south of west, and being clear
and beautiful, nearly half a mile in width, with many populous
communities of the beaver along its banks. The 28th of October,
however, was a day of disaster. The river again became rough and
impetuous, and was chafed and broken by numerous rapids. These
grew more and more dangerous, and the utmost skill was required
to steer among them.
