The attempt to find a better route
under guidance of Mr. Miller had cost them a large bend to the south;
in resuming Mr. Hunt's track, they would at least be sure of their road.
They accordingly turned down along the course of this stream, and at
the end of three days' journey came to where it was joined by a larger
river, and assumed a more impetuous character, raging and roaring among
rocks and precipices. It proved, in fact, to be Mad River, already noted
in the expedition of Mr. Hunt. On the banks of this river, they encamped
on the 18th of September, at an early hour.

Six days had now elapsed since their interview with the Crows; during
that time they had come nearly a hundred and fifty miles to the north
and west, without seeing any signs of those marauders. They considered
themselves, therefore, beyond the reach of molestation, and began to
relax in their vigilance, lingering occasionally for part of a day,
where there was good pasturage. The poor horses needed repose.

They had been urged on, by forced marches, over rugged heights, among
rocks and fallen timber, or over low swampy valleys, inundated by the
labors of the beaver. These industrious animals abounded in all the
mountain streams and watercourses, wherever there were willows for
their subsistence. Many of them they had so completely dammed up as to
inundate the low grounds, making shallow pools or lakes, and extensive
quagmires; by which the route of the travellers was often impeded.

On the 19th of September, they rose at early dawn; some began to prepare
breakfast, and others to arrange the packs preparatory to a march. The
horses had been hobbled, but left at large to graze upon the adjacent
pasture. Mr. Stuart was on the bank of a river, at a short distance from
the camp, when he heard the alarm cry--"Indians! Indians!--to arms! to
arms!"

A mounted Crow galloped past the camp, bearing a red flag. He reined
his steed on the summit of a neighboring knoll, and waved his flaring
banner. A diabolical yell now broke forth on the opposite side of the
camp, beyond where the horses were grazing, and a small troop of savages
came galloping up, whooping and making a terrific clamor. The horses
took fright, and dashed across the camp in the direction of the
standard-bearer, attracted by his waving flag. He instantly put spurs
to his steed, and scoured off followed by the panic-stricken herd, their
fright being increased by the yells of the savages in the