understand their
motives, and to partake of their anticipations; for, though before
almost ready to give out, they now required neither whip nor spur. With
all their exertions, it was late in the night before they drew near to
the trees. As they approached, they heard, with transport, the rippling
of a shallow stream. No sooner did the refreshing sound reach the ears
of the horse, than the poor animals snuffed the air, rushed forward with
ungovernable eagerness, and plunging their muzzles into the water, drank
until they seemed in danger of bursting. Their riders had but little
more discretion, and required repeated draughts to quench their
excessive thirst. Their weary march that day had been forty-five miles,
over a tract that might rival the deserts of Africa for aridity. Indeed,
the sufferings of the traveller on these American deserts is frequently
more severe than in the wastes of Africa or Asia, from being less
habituated and prepared to cope with them.

On the banks of this blessed stream the travellers encamped for the
night; and so great had been their fatigue, and so sound and sweet was
their sleep, that it was a late hour the next morning before they awoke.
They now recognized the little river to be the Umatilla, the same on
the banks of which Mr. Hunt and his followers had arrived after their
painful struggle through the Blue Mountains, and experienced such a kind
relief in the friendly camp of the Sciatogas.

That range of Blue Mountains now extended in the distance before them;
they were the same among which poor Michael Carriere had perished. They
form the southeast boundary of the great plains along the Columbia,
dividing the waters of its main stream from those of Lewis River. They
are, in fact, a part of a long chain, which stretches over a great
extent of country, and includes in its links the Snake River Mountains.

The day was somewhat advanced before the travellers left the shady
banks of the Umatilla. Their route gradually took them among the Blue
Mountains, which assumed the most rugged aspect on a near approach.
They were shagged with dense and gloomy forests, and cut up by deep and
precipitous ravines, extremely toilsome to the horses. Sometimes the
travellers had to follow the course of some brawling stream, with a
broken, rocky bed, which the shouldering cliffs and promontories on
either side obliged them frequently to cross and recross. For some miles
they struggled forward through these