foaming
torrents; while beyond their savage precincts, the eye was lost in an
almost immeasurable landscape; stretching on every side into dim and
hazy distance, like the expanse of a summer's sea. Whichever way he
looked, he beheld vast plains glimmering with reflected sunshine; mighty
streams wandering on their shining course toward either ocean, and snowy
mountains, chain beyond chain, and peak beyond peak, till they melted
like clouds into the horizon. For a time, the Indian fable seemed
realized: he had attained that height from which the Blackfoot warrior,
after death, first catches a view of the land of souls, and beholds the
happy hunting grounds spread out below him, brightening with the abodes
of the free and generous spirits. The captain stood for a long while
gazing upon this scene, lost in a crowd of vague and indefinite ideas
and sensations. A long-drawn inspiration at length relieved him from
this enthralment of the mind, and he began to analyze the parts of this
vast panorama. A simple enumeration of a few of its features may give
some idea of its collective grandeur and magnificence.

The peak on which the captain had taken his stand commanded the whole
Wind River chain; which, in fact, may rather be considered one immense
mountain, broken into snowy peaks and lateral spurs, and seamed with
narrow valleys. Some of these valleys glittered with silver lakes
and gushing streams; the fountain heads, as it were, of the mighty
tributaries to the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. Beyond the snowy peaks,
to the south, and far, far below the mountain range, the gentle river,
called the Sweet Water, was seen pursuing its tranquil way through the
rugged regions of the Black Hills. In the east, the head waters of Wind
River wandered through a plain, until, mingling in one powerful current,
they forced their way through the range of Horn Mountains, and were lost
to view. To the north were caught glimpses of the upper streams of the
Yellowstone, that great tributary of the Missouri. In another direction
were to be seen some of the sources of the Oregon, or Columbia, flowing
to the northwest, past those towering landmarks the Three Tetons, and
pouring down into the great lava plain; while, almost at the captain's
feet, the Green River, or Colorado of the West, set forth on its
wandering pilgrimage to the Gulf of California; at first a mere mountain
torrent, dashing northward over a crag and precipice, in a succession
of c