is dismal desert, and laid themselves
down at night, parched and disconsolate, beside their wormwood fires;
looking forward to still greater sufferings on the following day.
Fortunately it began to rain in the night, to their infinite relief; the
water soon collected in puddles and afforded them delicious draughts.

Refreshed in this manner, they resumed their wayfaring as soon as the
first streaks of dawn gave light enough for them to see their path. The
rain continued all day, so that they no longer suffered from thirst, but
hunger took its place, for after travelling thirty-three miles they had
nothing to sup on but a little parched corn.

The next day brought them to the banks of a beautiful little stream,
running to the west, and fringed with groves of cottonwood and willow.
On its borders was an Indian camp, with a great many horses grazing
around it. The inhabitants, too, appeared to be better clad than usual.
The scene was altogether a cheering one to the poor half-famished
wanderers. They hastened to their lodges, but on arriving at them
met with a check that at first dampened their cheerfulness. An Indian
immediately laid claim to the horse of Mr. Hunt, saying that it had been
stolen from him. There was no disproving a fact supported by numerous
bystanders, and which the horse stealing habits of the Indians rendered
but too probable; so Mr. Hunt relinquished his steed to the claimant;
not being able to retain him by a second purchase.

At this place they encamped for the night, and made a sumptuous repast
upon fish and a couple of dogs, procured from their Indian neighbors.
The next day they kept along the river, but came to a halt after ten
miles' march, on account of the rain. Here they again got a supply of
fish and dogs from the natives; and two of the men were fortunate enough
each to get a horse in exchange for a buffalo robe. One of these men was
Pierre Dorion, the half-breed interpreter, to whose suffering family
the horse was a timely acquisition. And here we cannot but notice the
wonderful patience, perseverance, and hardihood of the Indian women, as
exemplified in the conduct of the poor squaw of the interpreter. She was
now far advanced in her pregnancy, and had two children to take care of;
one four, and the other two years of age. The latter of course she
had frequently to carry on her back, in addition to the burden usually
imposed upon the squaw, yet she had borne all her hardships without a