Creelman in a canvas canoe. Contrary to
his usual custom, he did not start until afternoon, in deference to
friends in the town, and they had not proceeded many miles until night
came on and camp was struck on a muddy bar. They were under way at
sunrise next morning, and all day the river ran through a lonely
country. Ranges of buttes stretched away from the banks until they were
lost in the distance and from every gully, purling streams flashed their
clear waters into the yellow of the river. The banks were blushing with
the glory of autumn and vines hung among the trees like curtains of the
richest pattern. Game was utterly fearless until frightened away from
the water's edge by a blast from the bugle or a shot. A bar was utilized
for a camp that night and at ten o'clock next morning, the white
tepees of an Indian village were seen, and piles of wood along the
river indicated the approach to some settlement. On rounding a great
bend, Fort Yates and the Standing Rock Agency were sighted. Paul was
warmly received by the officers of the Fort and entertained in the
most hospitable manner. Among the notorious Indian chiefs whom Boyton
met at Standing Rock, were Rain-in-the-Face, Gaul, Low Dog, Long
Soldier, the young chief Flying-By and others.

On the morning of October 5th, they resumed the journey, the banks being
crowded with soldiers and Indians to see them start. After passing an
Indian village a few miles below Fort Yates, the country through which
the river twisted and turned, again assumed a lonely aspect. Mile after
mile was passed without the faintest sign of civilization. Sand bars
divided the river into five or six different channels and it
required careful paddling to avoid the countless snags which stuck out
of the water, sullen and threatening. The shores were strewn with
driftwood,--logs that had floated from far up the river; red willow and
cottonwood trees that had been gnawed from their roots by beavers; horns
and bones of wild animals and the countless ingredients of drift piles
were heaped on all sides. Amid all this desolation the Big Muddy
flowed, making fresh ruins at every turn. That night camp was pitched
on the bank and a wild goose was the leading feature on the supper bill
of fare. The next day proved another lonesome one. Not a single
habitation on the rusty hills that rose on either side and hid the
fertile country beyond. Toward evening a ranch was sigh