510 FROM HEADWATERS OF THE MISSOURI TO DALLES OP THE COLUMBIA. 



Near evening \ve struck a beaten snow-shoe track, sufficiently hard to bear the animals; and, 

 alter following it about two miles, we entered a small opening near the lake and camped. Here 

 \ve have the satisfaction of turning our emaciated animals into grass. It is poor yet, but the an 

 imals have ceased to be over-nice in what they eat. 



On the 14th remained in camp to recruit our exhausted animals a little. The day broke clear 

 and beautiful. Nature threw off the dark, gloomy aspect that had hung upon us for the last eight 

 davs, and shone forth with additional brilliancy. Early in the day an Indian dropped in upon 

 us accidentally. He intimated that his band (Pend d Oreilles) were camped about four miles 

 from us. 



After exchanging a few gutturals with the guide, he left, but returned again about 10 o clock 

 with six more, who sat around the camp-fire, smoked, arid made themselves at home till about 

 noon, when they all left except one forsaken-looking old vagabond, who laid about in the ashes 

 all day. 



I could not help noticing this aboriginal particularly. He was the rarest specimen of multiform 

 and complicated filth I ever saw, and looked as if he had been dead for the last two years, and 

 had left his grave for a morning walk without stopping to wash himself or change his clothes. He 

 remained back to beg and smoke; but as I didn t feel disposed to see the stem of my pipe stick 

 ing in such a face as his, he was left unnoticed. After half an hour lost in silent expectation, 

 with a combination of gutturals and gesticulations from his seat in the ashes, he commenced a 

 long harangue, which, from his pantomime, I interpreted as follows: 



&quot;He was the friend of the white man; in fact, he loved the white man. And when the white 

 man passed to and fro he always went to his camp, and smoked the white man s pipe, and ate 

 some; in fact, he sometimes ate a great deal. And before he left the w 1 te man s camp the 

 white man always gave him some tobacco and old clothes, and sometimes a blanket or two, or 

 a buffalo-robe. If it was only a good blanket, he didn t care if it was not new, or what color it 

 was. He was very glad to see me at this time, to-day, and was considerably hungry.&quot; 



By this time I had finished skinning a marten that I had been engaged on all the morning, and 

 was about to throw away the carcass, when he begged it, stuck it on a stick whole, and roasted 

 and ate it. After this savory meal, he spit upon his hands and rubbed them over his face, and 

 wiped his hands and face on almost his only garment a tattered buffalo-robe. I was unable to 

 perceive whether his face or the buffalo-robe gained the more dirt by the operation, but it had the 

 effect to polish off the outside stratum on both. 



At supper, it may be anticipated, he was not an invited guest; upon which he arose, and 

 stalked off with great show of offended dignity. 



This afternoon it became cloudy, and is snowing a little this evening. 



February 15. Early this morning we again resumed our journey. For the first few hours our 

 way led through a defile between the main body of mountains on our right, and one which pro 

 jected into the lake, forming a promontory on our left. Upon leaving this defile we came in full 

 view of the lake, perfectly becalmed in its mountain-bed. Its form was irregular; sometimes it 

 stretched out long arms into the blue distance, while at others bluff promontories, with their 

 hard outlines, extended far into the heart of its waters. 



We now followed the lake shore, and, after passing several small openings with fine grass, we 

 camped at night in excellent feed at the mouth of Pack river. This is a small stream, emptying 

 into the lake from the north through a flat open interval. 



The snow, which was fifteen inches deep at our last camp, has rapidly decreased to the depth 

 of four inches to-night. Last night one inch and a half more fell. 



On the IGth we travelled about fifteen miles, and camped in a sandy point at the foot of the 

 lake. In the latter part of the day the trail led round an arm of the lake, which was frozen over, 

 and we saved about five miles by crossing on the ice. It was about eight inches thick, and per 

 fectly safe, except where the rise and fall of the water had rived long seams in it. In crossing 



