The Vaunted Steed Of Mr.
Stuart Was Not To Be Found.
A suspicion flashed upon his mind.
Search for the horse of the Snake!
He likewise was gone - the
tracks of two horses, one after the other, were found, making off
from the camp. They appeared as if one horse had been mounted,
and the other led. They were traced for a few miles above the
camp, until they both crossed the river. It was plain the Snake
had taken an Indian mode of recovering his horse, having quietly
decamped with him in the night.
New vows were made never more to trust in Snakes, or any other
Indians. It was determined, also, to maintain, hereafter, the
strictest vigilance over their horses, dividing the night into
three watches, and one person mounting guard at a time. They
resolved, also, to keep along the river, instead of taking the
short cut recommended by the fugitive Snake, whom they now set
down for a thorough deceiver. The heat of the weather was
oppressive, and their horses were, at times, rendered almost
frantic by the stings of the prairie flies. The nights were
suffocating, and it was almost impossible to sleep, from the
swarms of mosquitoes.
On the 20th of August they resumed their march, keeping along the
prairie parallel to Snake River. The day was sultry, and some of
the party, being parched with thirst, left the line of march, and
scrambled down the bank of the river to drink. The bank was
overhung with willows, beneath which, to their surprise, they
beheld a man fishing. No sooner did he see them, than he uttered
an exclamation of joy. It proved to be John Hoback, one of their
lost comrades. They had scarcely exchanged greetings, when three
other men came out from among the willows. They were Joseph
Miller, Jacob Rezner, and Robinson, the scalped Kentuckian, the
veteran of the Bloody Ground.
The reader will perhaps recollect the abrupt and willful manner
in which Mr. Miller threw up his interest as a partner of the
company, and departed from Fort Henry, in company with these
three trappers, and a fourth, named Cass. He may likewise
recognize in Robinson, Rezner, and Hoback, the trio of Kentucky
hunters who had originally been in the service of Mr. Henry, and
whom Mr. Hunt found floating down the Missouri, on their way
homeward; and prevailed upon, once more, to cross the mountains.
The haggard looks and naked condition of these men proved how
much they had suffered. After leaving Mr. Hunt's party, they had
made their way about two hundred miles to the southward, where
they trapped beaver on a river which, according to their account,
discharged itself into the ocean to the south of the Columbia,
but which we apprehend to be Bear River, a stream emptying itself
into Lake Bonneville, an immense body of salt water, west of the
Rocky Mountains.
Having collected a considerable quantity of beaver skins, they
made them into packs, loaded their horses, and steered two
hundred miles due east.
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