492 MISSOURI RIVER FROM GREAT FALLS TO MOUTH OF MILK RIVER. 
the Judith mountains, lying some distance in a southwestern direction from its mouth. The Dog 
river, a smaller stream, has its mouth about a mile lower down. 
Their valleys are quite wide near the Missouri, and run into each other about a mile from it, 
forming the most extensive bottom yet passed. Last night it rained nearly all night, and in the 
fore-part of it some snow fell, which, however, melted immediately. This morning it was wet, 
cold, and uncomfortable, and remained so till about noon, when it stopped raining, but remained 
cloudy all day. 
Teal and mallard duck have been plenty to-day, and easily approached; just before going into 
camp we killed two of the latter, which we afterwards made into a stew for supper. No one 
with a good gun need want for provisions along the river, for game is swarming in its waters and 
on its banks. 
The only rapids to-day that deserve mention are, 1st, one known as ‘“ Pablieu’s,” depth of 
water one foot eleven inches—channel good; 2d, one half a mile above Arrow river, depth two 
feet, with several rolling boulders, weighing a ton or less, in it. These boulders get frozen to the 
under surface of the ice in winter, when the water is low higher up the river, and are carried 
down with it when it breaks up in the spring, and rasped off in shallow places as the ice goes 
down. They are uncertain visitors, and remain but one season ina place. Distance travelled 
to-day 20.3 miles. 
September 27.—On leaving camp to-day we took leave for a while of many of the wild beauties 
of nature which lay scattered along the river in an ever-varying panorama, to take a view of 
the other side of the picture of nature’s wild deformities—a masterpiece in its way. The 
“« Mauvaises Terres,” or Bad Lands, which this section is very appropriately called, is charac- 
terized by a total absence of anything which could by any possibility give pleasure to the eye, or 
gratification to the mind, by any associations of utility. Not an island, nor a shrub of any 
account—nothing but huge bare piles of mud, towering up as high as they can stand, and crowd- 
ing each other for room. The banks, varying from 200 to 300 feet in height, were of this nature 
on both sides of the river all day. 
I was told that the land was of the same character for some miles back, on both sides; I was 
unable to get a look at it myself. After camping I did try to climb up to the top of one of them, 
but the surface was saturated with water, and when I got half or two-thirds of the way up I was 
invariably treated to a slide of fifty or sixty feet down again. After several fruitless attempts I 
gave it up in disgust. There is a curious crag of rock on the profile of the hill, about two hundred 
feet above the water, on the other side of the river nearly opposite our camp, which from some 
positions looks like a human head down to the shoulders. The resemblance is so striking that it 
is called the ‘* Good Child’s Head,”’ and has become a landmark on the river. 
An unusual number of rapids have been passed to-day: one about a mile below the mouth of 
Little Dog river has one foot eleven inches of water on it—channel good. Another a mile below: 
that, two feet three inches of water in the channel, with several rolling stones on each side of it. 
But the worst place, by far, yet found in the river, is what is called ‘“ Dauphan’s rapid:” the 
water here was only one foot eight inches deep; rate of current, which is the greatest yet found 
anywhere, was nearly five miles an hour, and in addition several rolling stones were found 
lodged on the bar. All the other rapids had two feet three inches and upwards of water, and 
good channels. The day has been cold, cloudy, windy, and uncomfortable, a very fair accompa- 
niment to the scenery. Distance made to-day 19.2 miles. 
September 28.—To-day has been very agreeable, though at times a little cloudy and windy. 
But the banks, as far as the ‘* Mauvaise Terre” extends, which is to within two miles of camp, 
are just as abruptly broken and hopelessly barren as yesterday. 'There have been, however, 
narrow strips of passable bottom-land, with now and then a little wood on one or the other side. 
About 12 o’clock 1 met Mr. Harvey’s hunter, in advance of his keel-boat, from whom I under- 
stood they were about forty days from-the Yellowstone. Soon after we met the boat itself, which 
