FROM HEADWATERS OF THE MISSOURI TO DALLES OF THE COLUMBIA. 509 
February 12.—A few miles before reaching our camp last night, the trail leaves the river and 
takes a short cut to the Pend d’Oreille lake, over the Cabinet mountain; but my guide, Paul, has 
entirely lost his reckoning, and rather than attempt to cross it blindly, I preferred the chances of 
being able to follow the river. The way along-shore has become very difficult and hazardous of 
late; the river falls more rapidly than before, and often boiling rapids and rugged shores of loose 
angular rocks, with the crevices and chasms between hidden with snow, make our progress 
extremely laborious and dangerous to the animals. We left camp early this morning, and felt our 
way along the bank for about a mile, during which time nearly all my mules got in once or twice 
apiece, and we were detained some time in pulling them out, by lariats thrown over their heads, 
and in readjusting their packs. 
One accident of this kind—though it came near costing me two of my best mules, and nearly 
all our bedding and provisions—struck me as being extremely ludicrous. ‘Iwo of the mules, 
with their usual contempt of prudence, bolted out of the track on to a long point of ice formed at 
the head of a sharp bend, and when near the extremity, their weight, of course, broke it off, and 
they swung out into the swift current on a raft of their own constructing. As they separated 
more and more from their comrades, their long ears began to revolve about on their skulls, indi- 
cating that an idea had struck them that they were getting too far from shore, when, with a 
mutual look that sufficed for a parting shake of the hand, they plunged into Clark’s fork of the 
Columbia. The last I saw of the companions-in-arms was the tips of their tails before the last 
wave closed over them. At the expiration of a few seconds two noses appeared, followed by four 
ears and the packs. But they swam ashore, and allowed themselves to be pulled out just in time 
to save themselves from going over a churning rapid below. 
I thought the last demonstration might wind up the subject of river travelling for the present, 
and struck into the timber. We had now before us a broad bottom, lying betwen the Cabinet 
mountain and the river, and covered so densely with pine that we had to grope our way along, 
bushing out as we went, and turn from side to side to avoid fallen timber. The snow was from 
two to two and a half feet deep, with a crust on the top hard enough to nearly bear, but not quite. 
As our snow-shoes had long since been broken to pieces on the pack-animals, we went on, putting 
one leg in and pulling the other out, till nearly sunset, when we ascended the mountain-side a 
little, and camped in a small opening. 
This has been the most laborious day since leaving the Bitter Root valley, and yet we have 
not made over six miles. 
To-night our animals are a sorry-looking set. There is not a particle of anything for them 
to eat at camp, and they ate the last bite of grain yesterday morning. Their bellies are so drawn 
up, that with the greatest care a pack-saddle cannot be made to stay on more than two hours at 
atime. They have endured almost an incredible amount of hardships. Though jaded to com- 
mence with, they have been knocked about from day-dawn till dark over rocks and ice, and 
through a pathless pine forest, with almost nothing to eat for the last six days. Their legs, cut 
by the snow crust, are raw and bleeding from fetlocks to knees. This is the state of prepara- 
tion for a hard jaunt to-morrow, which, if we are fortunate, will bring us to grass. Our beds 
are thoroughly saturated with water; but, exposed as we are to every storm, we have long since 
ceased to think of dry beds or clothes. 
While ascending the mountain-side, I shot a wood or yellow-breasted marten, as he sat upon 
a pine limb about forty feet from the ground. It has been snowing nearly all-day, and to-night 
is dark and stormy. 
During the night about two inches of snow fell, and on the morning of the 13th we continued 
on over a country the very pattern of that traversed yesterday, except that now and then a small 
mountain-stream was crossed, upon whose banks were many huge cedars. I noticed some that 
were eight feet in diameter six fect from the ground. They were also straight-grained, and had 
scarcely a limb to their tops. 
