74 NARRATIVE AND ITINERARY — NEAR HEAD OP DES CHUTES VALLEY. 



August 29. — As the supply of grass began to fail, I moved camp about 3.3 miles down stream 

 this morning, to a point where the river bottom spread out into a fine prairie, carpeted with an 

 abundance of rich bunch grass. To reach this prairie, we passed through a nearly level country 

 covered with pine forest. We encamped near some small trees on the river bank, where we 

 found all the requisites for an excellent camping place. During the night, ice of considerable 

 thickness formed in the water vessels, and just before sunrise the thermometer stood at 15° 

 Fahrenheit. 



August 30. — The day was spent in taking observations and computing. The glass crystal of 

 one of the chronometers was unfortunately broken ; but Mr. Coleman pounded a piece of tin 

 until he gave it the requisite curvature, and thus supplied an admirable substitute. He had 

 previously repaired a watch in the same manner. 



August 31. — We remained in camp taking the usual observations. Early in the morning 

 the air was quite uncomfortably cold, and the thermometer ranged below the freezing point 

 until nearly nine o'clock. The altitude of the camp above the sea was only 4,129 feet. 



September 1. — To-day we were greatly surprised by the arrival of a party of gold seekers 

 from the Umpqua valley, who were journeying to the Coleville mines. They had crossed the 

 Cascade Kange by the wagon road south of Diamond Peak, which Lieutenant Williamson 

 subsequently examined. After remaining a few moments with us, they continued their march. 

 In the afternoon a corporal and two men arrived, bringing me orders from Lieutenant Wil- 

 liamson to join him on the second tributary of the Des Chutes rjver below camp. 



September 2. — Our course this morning lay through a fine prairie, from half a mile to two 

 miles in width, and bordered with pine timber. The river wound through the middle of the 

 open space, concealed from view by a line of willows, and the trail followed its general course. 

 The soil was mostly of a pumice-stone character, but there was an abundance of fine grass. 

 After travelling 13.5 miles we found, by the greatly increased size of the stream, that it had 

 received a tributary from the mountains. As the bushes were too thick to admit of riding near 

 the water's edge, I walked back, and in about a quarter of a mile reached the junction of the two 

 branches. The new tributary was too large to ford, and the depth and swift current of the 

 main river threatened to give us much trouble in crossing. Beavers were very numerous in 

 this vicinity. Continuing our march we soon reached a place where the trail crossed to the 

 other bank ; but the ford was so deep that the water rose to the backs of our largest mules. 

 After searching in vain for a more shallow place, I decided to make rafts, rather than wet the 

 packs and endanger the animals by driving them loaded into the swift current. The men 

 worked hard, and at sunset all our packs and instruments had been transported to the western 

 bank in safety, on a raft formed by lashing dry logs together. The escort were not quite so 

 successful, and some of their property remained on the eastern bank until morning. The 

 river was about 150 feet in width ; the bottom was hard and free from boulders, and the banks 

 were low and firm. The depth of the water and the swift current alone prevented fording. 



September 3. — In examining the vicinity of camp this morning, I found the remains of an 

 old Indian rancheria, surrounded by numerous deer and elk horns. A little above the crossing 

 place on the western bank, several springs gushed from the rocks and united to form a stream 

 nearly fifteen feet in width, which discharged itself into the river. 



We started at about eight o'clock. The trail led near the river bank, through a pumice- 

 stone region covered with pine timber. There were a few hills, and they gradually increased 

 in height and steepness as we advanced. The river abounded in short bends. About five 

 miles from camp, trap rock suddenly took the place of pumice-stone, and the stream entered 



