The Great Salt Trail | Page 6

blow your brains out!†exclaimed
Mr. Stuart.
By that time the chief was far beyond rifle range, and the whole daring
band of savages, with all the horses, were passing out of sight over the
hills, their red flag still waving and the valley echoing to their yells and
demoniacal laughter.
The unhorsed travellers were dismayed at the situation in which they
found themselves. A long journey was still before them, over rocky
mountains and wind-swept plains, which they must now painfully
traverse on foot, carrying on their backs everything necessary for their
subsistence.
They selected from their camp equipage such articles as were
absolutely necessary for their journey, and those things which they
could not carry were cached. It required a whole day to make ready for
their wearisome march. Next morning they were up at the break of day.
They had set a beaver-trap in the river the night before, and rejoiced to
find that they had caught one of the animals, which served as a meal for
the whole party.
On his way back with the prize, the man who had gone for it, casually
looking up at a cliff several hundred feet high, saw what he thought

were a couple of wolves looking down upon him. Paying no attention
to them, he walked on toward camp, when happening to look back, he
still saw the watchful eyes peering over the edge of the precipice. It
now flashed upon him that they might not be wolves at all, but Indian
spies.
On reaching camp he called the attention of Stuart and his companions
to what he had observed, and at first they too entertained the idea that
they were wolves, but soon satisfied themselves that they were savages.
If their surmises were true, the party was satisfied that the whereabouts
of their caches were known, and determined that their contents should
not fall into the hands of the savages. So they were opened, and
everything the men could not carry away was either burned or thrown
into the river.
On account of this delay they were not able to leave the place until
about ten o'clock. They marched along the bank of the river, and made
but eighteen miles in two days, when they were obliged to stop and
build two rafts with which to cross the stream. Discovering that their
rafts were very strong and able to withstand the roughness of the
current, instead of crossing, they floated on down the river.
For three days they kept on, staying only to camp on land at night. On
the evening of the third day, as they approached a little island, much to
their joy they discovered a herd of elk. A hunter who was put on shore
wounded one, which immediately took to the water, but being too weak
to stem the current it was overtaken and drawn ashore.
As a storm was brewing, they camped on the bank where they had
drawn up the elk. They remained there all the next day, protecting
themselves as best they could from the rain, hail, and snow, which fell
heavily. Now they employed themselves by drying a part of the meat
they had secured; and when cutting up the carcass of the animal, they
discovered it had been shot at by hunters not more than a week
previously, as an arrow-head and a musket-ball were still in the wounds.
Under other circumstances such a matter would have been regarded as
trivial, but as they knew the Snake Indians had no guns, the presence of
the bullet indicated that the elk could not have been wounded by one of
them. They were aware that they were on the edge of the Blackfeet
country, and as these savages were supplied with firearms, it was
surmised that some of that hostile tribe must have been lately in the

neighbourhood. This idea ended the peace of mind they had enjoyed
while they were floating down the river.
For three more days they stuck to their rafts and drifted slowly down
the stream, until they had reached a point which in their judgment was
about a hundred miles from where they embarked.
The lofty mountains having now dwindled to mere hills, they landed
and prepared to continue their journey on foot. They spent a day
making moccasins, packing their meat in bundles of twenty pounds for
each man to carry, then leaving the river they marched toward the
northeast. It was a slow, wearisome tramp, as a part of the way lay
through the bottoms covered with cottonwood and willows, and over
rough hills and rocky prairies. Some antelope came within rifle range,
but they dared not fire, fearing the report would betray them to the
Blackfeet.
That day they came upon the trail of a