258 
FROM THE COLUMBIA VALLEY TO FORT OWEN. 
from the east, to make peace with the Black feet; but their statements are so vague and unsatis¬ 
factory, that I can place no reliance on them. 
Friday, August 12.—Thermometer, 40°; barometer, 28.665. Passed over twenty miles of very 
bad road, along the shore of Pend d'Oreille lake, a very beautiful sheet of water among the mount¬ 
ains. The southern shore of the lake is impassable, and is evidently the termination of the Blue 
mountains. On the northern shore, which we traversed, we were obliged to deviate occasionally 
into the timber, and climb some very steep hills, to avoid the water. The whole region is cov¬ 
ered with a dense forest of pine, cedar, and other of the common forest trees of New England. 
On the shores of the lake are many fine meadows, covered with luxuriant grass. The lake is 
navigable, and no doubt that in a coming time, not very remote, its repose will be broken by 
the shrill scream and the paddles of the steamboat. I met many Indians, fine specimens of the 
race. 
The mosquitos are very troublesome in the early evening, but the cold nights, universal in this 
region, put an end to the annoyance before midnight. 
Saturday, Avgust 13.—Thermometer, 56°; barometer, 28.575. Marched twelve miles to a camp 
occupied by the Hudson’s Bay Company as a summer pasture for their cattle. The road was 
very bad, and our unshod animals had great difficulty in making their way over the sharp, flinty 
rocks; their hoofs were badly broken, and our trail might have been followed by means of the 
blood-stains upon the stones. I found Lieutenant Arnold here with the boat. He had had a 
pleasant voyage up the lake, and speaks in the highest terms of the beauty of its scenery, 
viewed from the water. 
We were somewhat discouraged by the accounts of the route from this place to St. Mary’s 
village given by a Scotchman who has recently passed over it. He says that for five days’ 
journey there is no grass, it having been burned over by the Indians. Mr. Michael Ogden, the 
factor in charge of this camp, gives the same uncheering account. 
Monday, August 15.—Yesterday was occupied in repairing camp equipage, and we left camp 
at an early hour this morning; passed over seventeen miles of very bad road ; crossed the Cabinet 
mountain, a tremendous rocky elevation, covered to its summit with a dense thicket, through 
which we had to cut our way; while all along our path were the domicils of innumerable wasps 
and hornets. These stung our animals so, that some of them became frantic, and plunged oflf 
into the timber with their loads, which were thus stripped into a thousand fragments. In this way, 
some of our most valuable packs were lost. 
We moved on until dark, when we encamped on Clark’s fork of the Columbia river, amid the 
rocks, without a particle of grass for our animals. 
Tuesday, Avgust 16.—Thermometer at sunrise, 46°.5; barometer, 28.475. Started at 2 o’clock 
a. m. The march of to-day was worse than that of yesterday, though not so mountainous, as 
we have evidently got over the mountain ranges west of the Rocky mountains. Continuing 
along the valley of Clark’s fork! occasionally deviating to avoid the rocks, we marched until 
noon, when we found a little grass, which our hungry beasts soon devoured. We then con¬ 
tinued our march until nearly sunset, when we encamped at “ Partridge camp,” so called from 
the number of birds of that description usually found there. There is little grass; but enough, 
I hope, to sustain animal life for a day or two. Our animals are becoming weak and exhausted, 
and some of them, unless recruited, must give out to-morrow. The woods are on fire in many 
places—evidently for the purpose of retarding our progress. 
The scenery to-day has been beautiful and grand, almost beyond description. At our noon 
camp, the rocks rise almost perpendicularly from the bed of the river to the height of 4,000 feet. 
Crossed many little streams of pure cold water emptying into Clark’s fork; temperature, 40°. 
Wednesday, August 17.—We prosecuted our march through the day, and encamped at night in 
a most miserable spot on the river, without any grass for our animals. Seven of our faithful 
pack-horses dropped upon the road, unable to go a step farther, and were left a prey to the wolves. 
