Journal of a Tour into the Interior of Missouri and Arkansaw | Page 4

and are now encamped on the banks of a small lake, in a prairie containing several small ponds or lakes, not having yet been rejoined by our hunter. One of the greatest inconveniences we experience in travelling in this region, arises from the difficulty of finding, at the proper time, a place of encampment affording wood and water, both of which are indispensable. On this account we find it prudent to encamp early in the afternoon, when we come to a spring of good water, with plenty of wood for fire, and grass for our horse; and, on the contrary, are compelled to travel late at night in order to find them. This is a difficulty which attends us this evening, having been compelled to stop in an open prairie, where wood is very scarce, and the water bad-general course of travelling south-weather pleasant, the rain having ceased shortly after day-light. Lands poor; trees, oaks; game observed, deer and elk. Distance twenty miles.
Wednesday, Nov. 11th
While lying before our camp-fire last night, the wolves set up their howling, apparently within 200 yards of us. We had already been long enough in the woods, and were sufficiently conversant with the hunter life, to know that this animal will only attack men in cases of the most extreme hunger; and as we knew their common prey, the deer, was abundant in that quarter, we had little apprehension for our safety. We thought it prudent, however, to be on the watch; a thing, indeed, which we did almost every night, particularly when the cold was such as to render it necessary to keep up a fire. In these cases we slept and watched alternately, as well from a regard to safety as to mend our fire. Such, however, was the fatigue of a day's long march, that we both fell into a sound sleep for the greater part of the night, and found our fire nearly out, and ourselves chilled with cold when we awoke, the wolves being still on an adjacent hill. A short time before day-light we arose, renewed our fire, and prepared breakfast, and commenced our journey at an early hour, holding a south course across the prairie of Little Lakes. At the distance of two miles we passed a stream running south-east, and originating in the prairie of lakes. Ducks are in great plenty on this stream as well as upon the lakes. I take this to be the origin of Black River. Our route lay for the first eight miles across a barren prairie country, with little wood and no water; we then entered into lofty forests of pine, and after winding along through valleys and deep defiles of rocks for several miles, found ourselves on the banks of Current's River, in a deep and romantic valley, the soil rich, and covered with a heavy growth of trees.
Current's River is one of the principal tributaries of Black River, and is a stream of 250 miles in length, and affords, in its whole course, extensive bodies of fertile land. Near its junction with Black River, about 200 miles below, are several settlements, and a ferry is kept ten miles above its mouth, where the Arkansaw road crosses it, and where a town is in contemplation. The waters of this stream are very clear and pure, and ducks are very common upon it. The wild turkey and grey squirrel are also seen on its banks. Five miles beyond Current's, night overtook us, and we encamped on the banks of a creek, near Ashley's salt-petre cave, in a dark, narrow, and lonesome little valley, where the rocks hung in terrific piles above our heads. Course of travelling south-west. Weather mild and smoky. Distance twenty miles.
Thursday, Nov. 12th
We find ourselves in a highly interesting section of country, and which affords some of the most picturesque and sublime views of rural scenery which I have ever beheld.�� The little brush camp we hastily erected last night, and in which I now write, is situated in a beautiful valley, on the banks of a small clear stream, with a rocky and gravelly bottom. The width of this valley is about 800 yards, and is bounded on the west by a perpendicular wall of limestone rock 200 feet in height, and rising in some places in cubical masses, resembling the mouldering towers of some antique ruin. On the east the bluffs are neither so high nor precipitous, and are intersected by hollows worn out of the rock by the action of rain operating, for many centuries, on calcareous rock. Down one of these hollows we descended into the valley, not, however, without leading our horse in the most cautious and circuitous manner. The top of these bluffs supports a substratum of a very sterile, gravelly alluvion,