240 AUDUBON, THE NATURALIST 
but while I was tugging with my back at the cordella, I 
kept my eyes fixed on the forests or the ground, looking 
for birds or curious shells.” 
Warping against the current was both difficult and 
dangerous, and though they rose two hours before the 
sun, they could make but one mile an hour or ten miles 
in the day. At night they would go ashore, light a 
good fire and cook their supper; then, after posting a 
sentinel to guard against unfriendly surprises, they 
would roll in their buffalo skins and sleep without fur- 
ther concern. Notwithstanding all their efforts, when 
they reached the Great Bend at Tawapatee Bottom, 
they were obliged to unship their cargo, protect their 
boat as best they could from being crushed in the grow- 
ing pack, and await the final breaking up of the ice. “The 
sorrows of Rozier,” at this dismal announcement, said 
Audubon, “were too great to be described; wrapped in 
a blanket, like a squirrel in winter quarters with his 
tail about his nose, he slept and dreamed his time away, 
being seldom seen except at meals.” There was not a 
white man’s cabin within twenty miles, but a new field 
opened to the naturalist, who tramped through the deep 
forests, and soon became acquainted with all the Indian 
trails and lakes in the neighborhood. 
The six weeks spent at this camp passed pleasantly 
for Audubon, who devoted much of the time in studying 
the Osage Indians, whom he thought superior to the 
Shawnees, as well as in watching for wolves, bears, deer, 
cougars, racoons and wild turkeys, some of which were 
attracted by the bones and scraps of food thrown out for 
them: “I drew,” said he, “more or less, by the side of our 
great camp-fire, every day.” While detained at this 
point, they used for bread the breasts of turkeys, but- 
tered with bear’s grease, and opossum and bear’s meat, 
