WOOD-PILE ON FIRE. 83 
taking a northerly direction, to cross the Snake 
river, where its tributary, the Peloose, joins it; 
then, passing by the Big Lake, travel due north 
to Fort Colville. It will facilitate description to 
resume my journal :— 
June 5.—I start alone for Walla-walla. A 
stage from the Dalles takes me to the Des 
Chutes or ‘fall’ river, where I embark in the 
‘Colonel Wright,’ a small crank steamer propelled 
by an enormous stern-wheel. The Columbia 
river was in full flood, and rushing down with 
terrific force made our progress tediously slow. 
We were well out in the current, when there 
was a hue-and-cry that the wood-pile was on fire; 
luckily it did no harm—the burning logs were 
dragged out and thrown into the water. More 
dismal scenery can hardly be imagined—not a 
tree or shrub visible—nothing but grass dry as 
hay, and level sandy plains. At Sundown the 
vessel is made fast to some stakes driven into the 
bank, there being nothing else to moor her to. 
June 6.—The splash of the stern-wheel and 
creak of machinery awake me; we are again 
struggling against a terrific current, and the wind 
blowing a gale dead ahead. The same monoto- 
nous shrubless waste—nothing to interest or 
amuse, save the excitement of twisting and 
G2 
