﻿A RESIDENCE AMONG THE INDIANS. 311 



steamboat that had ever attempted a voyage up that great river, for 

 any considerable distance, and consequently would be continually 

 in danger of being sunk by the snags, which abound theie. Now, 

 thought I, here is a fine chance for me to study, at my leisure, the 

 characters of the red men of the west. I had often wished for an 

 opportunity of this kind, and I at once accepted the captain's oiler 

 and set about preparing for my jaunt. I brought my business in St 

 Louis to a close, sent to Louisville for my old rifle, which I used to 

 call " Speaker," and having laid in a sufficient quantity of powder 

 and balls to last me a year for my readers must remember that in 

 the Indian country these things are very scarce and sell for a high 

 price I stepped on board the boat, and bid farewell to the tall 

 spires and busy streets of St. Louis, for aught I knew, forever. 



After ascending the Mississippi for a few miles, we turned the 

 bows of our steamboat into the mouth of the Missouri, and we were 

 fairly started upon our dangerous voyage, far away, as the Indian in 

 his thrilling language would express it, " towards the going down 

 of the sun." Our destination was the mouth of the Yellow Stone 

 river, which the captain told me was in the middle of the Indian 

 tribes, which inhabit the country east of the Rocky Mountains. 



For the first five hundred miles of our journey nothing of great 

 interest occurred. We were obliged to move slowly and cautiously, 

 for fear of having our boat sunk by the snags. We frequently ran 

 aground upon the sand-bars, and the cry of " Shoal ahead ! back 

 her ! " was heard so repeatedly that, at last, it caused no fear at all 

 among the passengers. 



The Missouri river is entirely different from any other stream of 

 water which I have ever seen. Its waters are always muddy, being 

 most of the year exactly the color of a cup of coffee with sugar and 

 cream stirred into it. Now I am not very fond of coffee, but, if I 

 were obliged to drink a cup of coffee or a cup of Missouri river 

 water, I think I should choose the coffee, and I have no doubt my 

 readers would. Well, I will tell you how this muddy water is made 

 so. The Missouri river, for a greater part of its length, runs through 

 an immense level plain with a great depth of rich alluvial soil, and, 

 being a very large river arid the current strong, its channel is con- 

 tinually changing. As the water rushes along, the banks fall in 



