278 LINE OF THE MARIAS PASS. 
and thrifty almost to the summit. On the east, what little growth there is consists of short, 
scrubby pines, only suitable for fuel. On one of the snow-bordered ponds we camped. 
Before the close of the day the snow was gathering on the ground, and continued falling until 
next day. When at a distance of only about a dozen miles from the summit we made the prairies, 
covered with some four inches of snow. 
Smooth, dry prairie extends hence to Fort Benton; in traversing which to that post, we cross 
the tributaries of Marias and Teton rivers. This prairie is very sparingly supplied either with 
water or wood, but the soil appeared to be of fair quality, and, near the mountains, very good. 
The distance from the summit to Fort Benton is estimated at 136 miles, and the week spent in 
accomplishing this distance was a time of excessive cold, severe for the latter part of October ; 
and it is probable that so cold weather did not occur again until considerably later in the season. 
One or two snow-storms occurred during the earlier part of the week, and in two instances the 
extreme cold reached as low as 8° above zero, Fahrenheit. The snow on the prairies had a 
greater depth of five inches, and disappeared altogether one day’s journey out from Fort Benton. 
The weather had not been so cold there as on the prairies to the north and west. 
On November Ist we left our camp opposite Fort Benton on our westward march to St. Mary’s 
village. After several days of clear and mild weather, the air had again become cold, and we 
were visited with another snow-storm. For about seventy miles our march lay along the south 
side of the Missouri—sometimes in sight of it, and sometimes losing it for the whole day. We 
travelled slowly; our animals were worn with their previous work; and the week spent in 
making but little more than this distance was cold and snowy, the thermometer in one instance 
ranging as low as 3° above zero, and the snow once becoming as deep as eight inches. The air 
was often thick with snow, so that I could get but very limited and imperfect views of the coun- 
try; and though passing within hearing of the Falls of the Missouri, I could get no view of them. 
Game was generally plenty. A few buffalo, and a good many elk and deer, were feeding on the 
prairie. The air resounded with the cries of the continually-passing flocks of swan, geese, and 
ducks; and near our different camps great quantities of these fowl would be found on the river, 
swimming among the floating ice moving down with the current. The ground was a good deal 
broken with coulées in the first half of the distance named, but above the falls marked changes 
occur in the valley of the Missouri; the river no longer flows in a deep channel, whose banks are 
again cut with deep coulées, but the river appears raised more nearly to the level of the surround- 
ing country, and, in place of the bluffs, broken with coulées, grassed, and more or less irregular 
slopes, from which the trap for the first time is beginning to show itself, reach down to the 
river’s edge. For most of the above distance the soil is good, often rich and black in the valleys. 
At the end of the seventy miles, the traps, rock hills, and precipices crowd upon the river, and 
it was with great difficulty that we could get along in its vicinity. Here, I judge, is the so- 
called “Gate of the Mountains.” I may here say that, immediately prior to our leaving Fort 
Benton, the disposition of the Blackfeet to waylay and murder our Pend d’Oreille guide had led 
to a change in our intended route; and then, finally, the floating ice in the Missouri made the 
fording of the stream dangerous, so that our guide did not think it safe to ‘follow the usual and 
best route. In this way we got forced in among the turbulent mass of irregular and rocky hills, 
through which, for over twenty miles, lay our travelled route, the river winds its way; and 
where almost perpendicular precipices, obtruding at frequent intervals into ‘the river’s edge, 
make it impossible to travel along its banks. ‘These hills are partially wooded with the pines. 
The principal difficulty in reaching the Little Blackfoot Pass is in getting through this broken 
region of country. A wagon route, I think, will be obtained here ; probably there already exists 
a good trail—the continuation of a trail which we followed for some distance above the falls, and 
on which we probably should have continued, had not the ice with the high water prevented 
our making the passage in the usual place. Of this matter I cannot speak positively, not always 
rightly interpreting the signs of my Indian guide. 
