304 
FROM FORT BENTON TO THE FLATHEAD CAMP. 
lip. m., when it cleared off and became beautifully starlight till near 1 a. m., when it showered 
heavily until near morning, giving some of us a wet bed for the night. This, however, was not 
much heeded, for, being tired and wearied, we slept as soundly as if on downy couches. I 
would here mention, what I have often noticed before in this region, that the season for rain seems 
to be the night—a thing somewhat remarkable. There have been but few exceptions to this, 
that I have noticed. This for the traveller is fortunate, for, above all things, travelling in the 
rain is anything but comfortable, though the comfort of sleeping in it might be questioned by 
some. What is the cause of this singular periodical occurrence of the rain, has been asked by 
many who have noticed it. The mornings and evenings are exceedingly cold; the days quite 
warm. The mornings at this season are in every respect similar to the mornings of the month of 
May in the States of Maryland and Virginia, and the section in the vicinity. Though the coun¬ 
try presents rather an uninviting appearance, the grass is dry and yellow, and, being entirely 
prairie, it looks dreary, and at times exceedingly sombre. I have supposed this somewhat sin¬ 
gular phenomenon to arise from the great difference of temperature of the day and night; the 
air, which during the day is rarefied by the heat, at night becomes suddenly condensed and 
returns to the earth in the form of rain. 
September 11, 1853.—This day commences mild and pleasant; the rain during the last night 
warmed the atmosphere very much, which rendered this similar to a summer’s morning, the 
thermometer at sunrise being at 60° Farenheit. We resumed 'our march at fifteen minutes to 7 
a. m., which lay for the distance of a mile along the Arrow river; thence east, when we entered 
the “ Mauvaises Terres,” a portion of the same that we found lower down on the Missouri. These 
lands we found to be about two miles wide, and extending along the Arrow river to the Missouri. 
They were more rough and rugged than any I had seen in the prairie country bordering the 
Missouri, up which I had travelled a distance of twenty-one hundred miles. They are totally 
destitute of timber, and present a black, barren appearance, being composed of a mixture of sand 
and clay, the clay predominating; the whole being highly impregnated with iron. In some 
places the ravines through these lands were perfectly awful to behold, descending to the depth of 
many hundreds of feet. After having ascended to the top of a high bluff we would be compelled 
to descend a slope sometimes of sixty degrees, and ascend another nearly as high, when the 
distance between the summit would be but a few yards. Fortunately for us, these lands 
extended but a short distance, but even this was very trying to our animals. Our course after 
leaving these bad lands lay over a most beautiful and level prairie, which extended for many 
miles in length and ten or twelve miles in width, with an occasional hill and valley. The grass 
on this prairie we found to be exceedingly high, though dry. Arriving at the end of this prairie 
we came in sight of the Judith mountains, a high range of mountains running both west and south¬ 
east; these mountains lay about eight miles distant, and to our left, while the main chain of the 
Belt mountains lay to our right, and about thirty miles distant, having a general direction of north 
and south. Water along the whole route was exceedingly scarce, and what we found was very 
brackish. Wood we found none since leaving the Arrow river. No game was to be seen save 
three buffalo bulls, one of which the Indians with us succeeded in killing; they saw him for a 
distance of five miles before securing him, and when secured he turned out to be so poor and 
lean as to be unfit to eat, save his haunch and tongue, which they brought to us. Our journey lay 
a little to the south of east during the whole of the day till we struck a tributary of the Judith 
river, which tributary takes its rise in the main chain of the Belt mountains; the fork or tributary 
we found to contain but little water, which lay in pools, and was very unpalatable. We jour¬ 
neyed on for six miles farther, camping on a second tributary of the Judith river that rises in the 
same chain of mountains. The main stream of Judith river takes its rise in the Belt mountains, 
and empties into the Missouri near three thousand miles above its mouth. About noon of this 
day we observed it raining heavily in the Belt mountains, while it was clear and beautiful in the 
prairie over which we were journeying. Our march on this day was about twenty-two miles to 
