LETTER OF A. W. TINKHAM. 627 
and scanty. The snow continued to increase in depth until, as the valley ran out, it was quite 
two feet deep. Thence onward over the mountains for some distance, (about thurty miles,) the 
snow was from two to three feet deep, the horses toiling slowly through it, and getting but little 
to eat. Our least day’s journey was six miles. Descending to the valley of a stream with 
which I was then unacquainted, and then supposed, from the information which our Nez Perces 
guide gave me, to be a branch of the Lou-Lou fork of St. Mary’s river, the snow again died out. 
Leaving this stream, the trail again took to the hills, much to my disappointment; and some half 
dozen miles from this stream, and about nine days after leaving St. Mary’s, I was shut up in the 
snow at least four feet deep, with a steep hill before us, up which it was impossible for the 
animals to make their way. 
By breaking out the path on foot, then following with the spare animals, then the riding- 
animals with their saddles, and last the pack-animals, I had succeeded thus far in making my 
way along. It being near night then, I camped on the spot, and, as everything which could 
afford them food was buried deep beneath the snow, the animals were turned back to seek the 
pasture they had left in the morning. The next day was spent in reconnoitring ahead and break- 
ing out a path. Ahead nothing could be discovered but snow and hills. That night it snowed 
heavily, adding some two feet. Attempting to regain the animals, I became convinced that it 
was impossible to get them any farther ahead, and immediately commenced preparing for the 
- balance of the journey on foot. At this camp I remained a week, making snow-shoes and sleds, 
and, as the snow eventually gave place to a rain, in tramping roads. At the end of the week 
the animals were once more brought to the trench, and once more, just at night, were shut up in 
their narrow path, walled in by the snow. Our efforts were, however, utterly useless; our road 
would not sustain them, and a few minutes’ struggling was sufficient to wear out our best horses. 
Convinced that any further delay would not only be useless but dangerous, I moved forward 
next day with snow-shoes, and packs on our backs. 
We had twenty-five good animals in the mountains, which, if left there, would almost to a 
certainty be every one dead before the close of winter; and with a considerable addition of 
valuable property in the shape of saddles, blankets, arms, &c., and the peculiarity of my position 
induced me to make a proposition to my men which, under other circumstances, [ should not 
feel justified in doing; but with these considerations will, I trust, meet with your approval. 
Pearson and French were sent back with the animals and all that was valuable of the public 
property, and to them I guarantied (subject to your approval) the extra compensation of twenty 
dollars per animal, should they succeed in getting them safely to St. Mary’s. In reaching our 
camp of that date, we had passed through over thirty miles of deep snow; and, although the trail 
which we made at that time undoubtedly would facilitate their return, since then we had had a 
deep snow, and the return could not be made without some uncertainty and risk—considering, 
too, that if they do not reach the Territory seasonably their detention would, as they felt, cause 
them pecuniary loss—I looked upon their attempt to restore public property to a place of safety 
as an act of extraordinary services, and justifying an extra compensation as an inducement. 
It was their intention to descend from St. Mary’s by water, but I think that a further consider- 
ation will have induced them to give up this method of return, and with horses to take the trail 
pursued by Lieut. Donelson. It is now thirty days since we separated, and as, after leaving St. 
Mary’s, they will travel rapidly, I expect their arrival here soon after my departure. 
Unused to packing and snow-shoes, we were fifteen days before breaking through the woods 
and mountains. Of clothing we took little other than what we wore; I took only two pairs of 
socks and two pairs of moccasins. Wilson, Bracken, Agnew, and the guide, made my party. 
Each of us had two blankets and a tin cup. 
Our provisions were, excepting fora few days at starting, flour and salt. At starting our packs 
weighed from fifiy to seventy pounds, and, climbing along the steep hill-sides, over the crust, we 
found it at first very laborious, making at the outset three, then six, and ten or twelve-miles a 
