e out
upon the prairie, and clambering the sandy hollows that were channeled
in the sides of the hills gained the high plains above. If a curse had
been pronounced upon the land it could not have worn an aspect of more
dreary and forlorn barrenness. There were abrupt broken hills, deep
hollows, and wide plains; but all alike glared with an insupportable
whiteness under the burning sun. The country, as if parched by the heat,
had cracked into innumerable fissures and ravines, that not a little
impeded our progress. Their steep sides were white and raw, and along
the bottom we several times discovered the broad tracks of the terrific
grizzly bear, nowhere more abundant than in this region. The ridges of
the hills were hard as rock, and strewn with pebbles of flint and coarse
red jasper; looking from them, there was nothing to relieve the desert
uniformity of the prospect, save here and there a pine-tree clinging at
the edge of a ravine, and stretching out its rough, shaggy arms. Under
the scorching heat these melancholy trees diffused their peculiar
resinous odor through the sultry air. There was something in it, as I
approached them, that recalled old associations; the pine-clad mountains
of New England, traversed in days of health and buoyancy, rose like a
reality before my fancy. In passing that arid waste I was goaded with
a morbid thirst produced by my disorder, and I thought with a longing
desire on the crystal treasure poured in such wasteful profusion from
our thousand hills. Shutting my eyes, I more than half believed that
I heard the deep plunging and gurgling of waters in the bowels of the
shaded rocks. I could see their dark ice glittering far down amid the
crevices, and the cold drops trickling from the long green mosses.

When noon came, we found a little stream, with a few trees and bushes;
and here we rested for an hour. Then we traveled on, guided by the sun,
until, just before sunset, we reached another stream, called Bitter
Cotton-wood Creek. A thick growth of bushes and old storm-beaten trees
grew at intervals along its bank. Near the foot of one of the trees we
flung down our saddles, and hobbling our horses turned them loose to
feed. The little stream was clear and swift, and ran musically on its
white sands. Small water birds were splashing in the shallows, and
filling the air with their cries and flutterings. The sun was just
sinking among gold and crimson clouds behind Mount Laramie. I well
rememb