Departure From Snake River- Mountains to the North.- Wayworn Travellers- An
Increase of the Dorion Family.- A Camp of Shoshonies.-A New-Year Festival Among
the Snakes.-A Wintry March Through the Mountains.-A Sunny Prospect, and Milder
Climate.- Indian Horse-Tracks.- Grassy Valleys.- A Camp of Sciatogas.- Joy of the
Travellers.-Dangers of Abundance.-Habits of the Sciatogas.- Fate of Carriere.- The
Umatilla.- Arrival at the Banks of the Columbia.-Tidings of the Scattered Members of the
Expedition.- Scenery on the Columbia.- Tidings of Astoria- Arrival at the Falls.
0N the 24th of December, all things being arranged, Mr. Hunt turned his back upon the
disastrous banks of Snake River, and struck his course westward for the mountains.
His party, being augmented by the late followers of Mr. Crooks, amounted now to thirty-two white men, three Indians, and the squaw and two children of Pierre Dorion. Five
jaded, halfstarved horses were laden with their luggage, and, in case of need, were to
furnish them with provisions. They travelled painfully about fourteen miles a day, over
plains and among hills, rendered dreary by occasional falls of snow and rain. Their only
sustenance was a scanty meal of horse flesh once in four-and-twenty hours.
On the third day the poor Canadian, Carriere, one of the famished party of Mr. Crooks,
gave up in despair, and laying down upon the ground declared he could go no further.
Efforts were made to cheer him up, but it was found that the poor fellow was absolutely
exhausted and could not keep on his legs. He was mounted, therefore, upon one of the
horses, though the forlorn animal was in little better plight than himself.
On the 28th, they came upon a small stream winding to the north, through a fine level
valley; the mountains receding on each side. Here their Indian friends pointed out a
chain of woody mountains to the left, running north and south, and covered with snow,
over which they would have to pass. They kept along the valley for twenty-one miles on
the 29th, suffering much from a continued fall of snow and rain, and being twice obliged
to ford the icy stream. Early in the following morning the squaw of Pierre Dorion, who
had hitherto kept on without murmuring or flinching, was suddenly taken in labor, and
enriched her husband with another child. As the fortitude and good conduct of the poor
woman had gained for her the goodwill of the party, her situation caused concern and
perplexity. Pierre, however, treated the matter as an occurrence that could soon be
arranged and need cause no delay. He remained by his wife in the camp, with his other
children and his horse, and promised soon to rejoin the main body, who proceeded on
Finding that the little river entered the mountains, they abandoned it, and turned off for
a few miles among hills. Here another Canadian, named La Bonte, gave out, and had
to be helped on horseback. As the horse was too weak to bear both him and his pack,
Mr. Hunt took the latter upon his own shoulders. Thus, with difficulties augmenting at
every step, they urged their toilsome way among the hills, half famished and faint at
heart, when they came to where a fair valley spread out before them, of great extent
and several leagues in width, with a beautiful stream meandering through it. A genial
climate seemed to prevail here, for though the snow lay upon all the mountains within
sight, there was none to be seen in the valley. The travellers gazed with delight upon
this serene, sunny landscape, but their joy was complete on beholding six lodges of
Shoshonies pitched upon the borders of the stream, with a number of horses and dogs
about them. They all pressed forward with eagerness and soon reached the camp.
Here their first attention was to obtain provisions. A rifle, an old musket, a tomahawk, a
tin kettle, and a small quantity of ammunition soon procured them four horses, three
dogs, and some roots. Part of the live stock was immediately killed, cooked with all
expedition, and as promptly devoured. A hearty meal restored every one to good
spirits. In the course of the following morning the Dorion family made its reappearance.
Pierre came trudging in the advance, followed by his valued, though skeleton steed, on
which was mounted his squaw with her new-born infant in her arms, and her boy of two
years old wrapped in a blanket and slung at her side. The mother looked as
unconcerned as if nothing had happened to her; so easy is nature in her operations in
the wilderness, when free from the enfeebling refinements of luxury, and the
tamperings and appliances of art.
The next morning ushered in the new year (1812). Mr. Hunt was about to resume his
march, when his men requested permission to celebrate the day. This was particularly
urged by the Canadian voyageurs, with whom New-Year's day is a favorite festival; and
who never willingly give up a holiday, under any circumstances. There was no resisting
such an application; so the day was passed in repose and revelry; the poor Canadians
contrived to sing and dance in defiance of all their hardships; and there was a
sumptuous New-Year's banquet of dog's meat and horse flesh.
After two days of welcome rest, the travellers addressed themselves once more to the
painful journey. The Indians of the lodges pointed out a distant gap through which they
must pass in traversing the ridge of mountains. They assured them that they would be
but little incommoded by snow, and in three days would arrive among the Sciatogas.
Mr. Hunt, however, had been so frequently deceived by Indian accounts of routes and
distances, that he gave but little faith to this information.
The travellers continued their course due west for five days, crossing the valley and
entering the mountains. Here the travelling became excessively toilsome, across rough
stony ridges, and amidst fallen trees. They were often knee deep in snow, and
sometimes in the hollows between the ridges sank up to their waists. The weather was
extremely cold; the sky covered with clouds so that for days they had not a glimpse of
the sun. In traversing the highest ridge they had a wide but chilling prospect over a
wilderness of snowy mountains.
On the 6th of January, however, they had crossed the dividing summit of the chain, and
were evidently under the influence of a milder climate. The snow began to decrease;
the sun once more emerged from the thick canopy of clouds, and shone cheeringly
upon them, and they caught a sight of what appeared to be a plain, stretching out in the
west. They hailed it as the poor Israelites hailed the first glimpse of the promised land,
for they flattered themselves that this might be the great plain of the Columbia, and that
their painful pilgrimage might be drawing to a close,
It was now five days since they had left the lodges of the Shoshonies, during which
they had come about sixty miles, and their guide assured them that in the course of the
next day they would see the Sciatogas.
On the following morning, therefore, they pushed forward with eagerness, and soon fell
upon a stream which led them through a deep narrow defile, between stupendous
ridges. Here among the rocks and precipices they saw gangs of that mountain-loving
animal, the black-tailed deer, and came to where great tracks of horses were to be
seen in all directions, made by the Indian hunters.
The snow had entirely disappeared, and the hopes of soon coming upon some Indian
encampment induced Mr. Hunt to press on. Many of the men, however, were so
enfeebled that they could not keep up with the main body, but lagged at intervals
behind; and some of them did not arrive at the night encampment. In the course of this
day's march the recently-born child of Pierre Dorion died.
The march was resumed early the next morning, without waiting for the stragglers. The
stream which they had followed throughout the preceding day was now swollen by the
influx of another river; the declivities of the hills were green and the valleys were
clothed with grass. At length the jovial cry was given of "an Indian camp!" It was yet in
the distance, In the bosom of the green valley, but they could perceive that it consisted
of numerous lodges, and that hundreds of horses were grazing the grassy meadows
around it. The prospect of abundance of horse flesh diffused universal joy, for by this
time the whole stock of travelling provisions was reduced to the skeleton steed of
Pierre Dorion, and another wretched animal, equally emaciated, that had been
repeatedly reprieved during the journey.
A forced march soon brought the weary and hungry travellers to the camp. It proved to
be a strong party of Sciatogas and Tusche-pas. There were thirty-four lodges,
comfortably constructed of mats; the Indians, too, were better clothed than any of the
wandering bands they had hitherto met on this side of the Rocky Mountains. Indeed,
they were as well clad as the generality of the wild hunter tribes. Each had a good
buffalo or deer skin robe; and a deer skin hunting shirt and leggins. Upwards of two
thousand horses were ranging the pastures around their encampment; but what
delighted Mr. Hunt was, on entering the lodges, to behold brass kettles, axes, copper
tea-kettles, and various other articles of civilized manufacture, which showed that these
Indians had an indirect communication with the people of the sea-coast who traded with
the whites. He made eager inquiries of the Sciatogas, and gathered from them that the
great river (the Columbia) was but two days' march distant, and that several white
people had recently descended it; who he hoped might prove to be M'Lellan, M'Kenzie,
and their companions.
It was with the utmost joy and the most profound gratitude to heaven, that Mr. Hunt
found himself and his band of weary and famishing wanderers thus safely extricated
from the most perilous part of their long journey, and within the prospect of a
termination of their tolls. All the stragglers who had lagged behind arrived, one after
another, excepting the poor Canadian voyageur, Carriere. He had been seen late in the
preceding afternoon, riding behind a Snake Indian, near some lodges of that nation, a
few miles distant from the last night's encampment; and it was expected that he would
soon make his appearance. The first object of Mr. Hunt was to obtain provisions for his
men. A little venison, of an indifferent quality, and some roots were all that could be
procured that evening; but the next day he succeeded in purchasing a mare and colt,
which were immediately killed, and the cravings of the half-starved people in some
For several days they remained in the neighborhood of these Indians, reposing after all
their hardships, and feasting upon horse flesh and roots, obtained in subsequent traffic.
Many of the people ate to such excess as to render themselves sick, others were lame
from their past journey; but all gradually recruited in the repose and abundance of the
valley. Horses were obtained here much more readily, and at a cheaper rate, than
among the Snakes. A blanket, a knife, or a half pound of blue beads would purchase a
steed, and at this rate many of the men bought horses for their individual use.
This tribe of Indians, who are represented as a proud-spirited race, and uncommonly
cleanly, never eat horses or dogs, nor would they permit the raw flesh of either to be
brought into their huts. They had a small quantity of venison in each lodge, but set so
high a price upon it that the white men, in their impoverished state could not afford to
purchase it. They hunted the deer on horseback, "ringing," or surrounding them, and
running them down in a circle. They were admirable horsemen, and their weapons were
bows and arrows, which they managed with great dexterity. They were altogether
primitive in their habits, and seemed to cling to the usages of savage life, even when
possessed of the aids of civilization. They had axes among them, yet they generally
made use of a stone mallet wrought into the shape of a bottle, and wedges of elk horn,
in splitting their wood. Though they might have two or three brass kettles hanging, in
their lodges, yet they would frequently use vessels made of willow, for carrying water,
and would even boll their meat in them, by means of hot stones. Their women wore
caps of willow neatly worked and figured.
As Carriere, the Canadian straggler, did not make his appearance for two or three days
after the encampment in the valley two men were sent out on horseback in search of
him. They returned, however, without success. The lodges of the Snake Indians near
which he had been seen were removed, and the could find no trace of him. Several
days more elapsed, yet nothing was seen or heard of him, or the Snake horseman,
behind whom he had been last observed. It was feared, therefore, that he had either
perished through hunger and fatigue; had been murdered by the Indians; or, being left
to himself, had mistaken some hunting tracks for the trail of the party, and been led
astray and lost.
The river on the banks of which they were encamped, emptied into the Columbia, was
called by the natives the Eu-o-tal-la, or Umatilla, and abounded with beaver. In the
course of their sojourn in the valley which it watered, they twice shifted their camp,
proceeding about thirty miles down its course, which was to the west. A heavy fall of
rain caused the river to overflow its banks, dislodged them from their encampment, and
drowned three of their horses which were tethered in the low ground.
Further conversation with the Indians satisfied them that they were in the neighborhood
of the Columbia. The number of the white men who they said had passed down the
river, agreed with that of M'Lellan, M'Kenzie, and their companions, and increased the
hope of Mr. Hunt that they might have passed through the wilderness with safety.
These Indians had a vague story that white men were coming to trade among them;
and they often spoke of two great men named Ke-Koosh and Jacquean, who gave them
tobacco, and smoked with them. Jacquean, they said, had a house somewhere upon
the great river. Some of the Canadians supposed they were speaking of one Jacquean
Finlay, a clerk of the Northwest Company, and inferred that the house must be some
trading post on one of the tributary streams of the Columbia. The Indians were
overjoyed when they found this band of white men intended to return and trade with
them. They promised to use all diligence in collecting quantities of beaver skins, and no
doubt proceeded to make deadly war upon that sagacious, but ill-fated animal, who, in
general, lived in peaceful insignificance among his Indian neighbors, before the
intrusion of the white trader. On the 20th of January, Mr. Hunt took leave of these
friendly Indians, and of the river on which they encamped, and continued westward.
At length, on the following day, the wayworn travellers lifted up their eyes and beheld
before them the long-sought waters of the Columbia. The sight was hailed with as much
transport as if they had already reached the end of their pilgrimage; nor can we wonder
at their joy. Two hundred and forty miles had they marched, through wintry wastes and
rugged mountains, since leaving Snake River; and six months of perilous wayfaring had
they experienced since their departure from the Arickara village on the Missouri. Their
whole route by land and water from that point had been, according to their computation,
seventeen hundred and fifty-one miles, in the course of which they had endured all
kinds of hardships. In fact, the necessity of avoiding the dangerous country of the
Blackfeet had obliged them to make a bend to the south and traverse a great additional
extent of unknown wilderness.
The place where they struck the Columbia was some distance below the junction of its
two great branches, Lewis and Clarke rivers, and not far from the influx of the Wallah-Wallah. It was a beautiful stream, three-quarters of a mile wide, totally free from trees;
bordered in some places with steep rocks, in others with pebbled shores.
On the banks of the Columbia they found a miserable horde of Indians, called Akai-chies, with no clothing but a scanty mantle of the skins of animals, and sometimes a
pair of sleeves of wolf's skin. Their lodges were shaped like a tent, and very light and
warm, being covered with mats and rushes; besides which they had excavations in the
ground, lined with mats, and occupied by the women, who were even more slightly clad
than the men. These people subsisted chiefly by fishing; having canoes of a rude
construction, being merely the trunks of pine trees split and hollowed out by fire. Their
lodges were well stored with dried salmon, and they had great quantities of fresh
salmon trout of an excellent flavor, taken at the mouth of the Umatilla; of which the
travellers obtained a most acceptable supply.
Finding that the road was on the north side of the river, Mr. Hunt crossed, and
continued five or six days travelling rather slowly down along its banks, being much
delayed by the straying of the horses, and the attempts made by the Indians to steal
them. They frequently passed lodges, where they obtained fish and dogs. At one place
the natives had just returned from hunting, and had brought back a large quantity of elk
and deer meat, but asked so high a price for it as to be beyond the funds of the
travellers, so they had to content themselves with dog's flesh. They had by this time,
however, come to consider it very choice food, superior to horse flesh, and the minutes
of the expedition speak rather exultingly now and then, of their having made a famous
"repast," where this viand happened to be unusually plenty.
They again learnt tidings of some of the scattered members of the expedition,
supposed to be M'Kenzie, M'Lellan, and their men, who had preceded them down the
river, and had overturned one of their canoes, by which they lost many articles. All
these floating pieces of intelligence of their fellow adventurers, who had separated from
them in the heart of the wilderness, they received with eager interest.
The weather continued to be temperate, marking the superior softness of the climate on
this side of the mountains. For a great part of the time, the days were delightfully mild
and clear, like the serene days of October on the Atlantic borders. The country in
general, in the neighborhood of the river, was a continual plain, low near the water, but
rising gradually; destitute of trees, and almost without shrubs or plants of any kind,
excepting a few willow bushes. After travelling about sixty miles, they came to where
the country became very hilly and the river made its way between rocky banks and
down numerous rapids. The Indians in this vicinity were better clad and altogether in
more prosperous condition than those above, and, as Mr. Hunt thought, showed their
consciousness of ease by something like sauciness of manner. Thus prosperity is apt
to produce arrogance in savage as well as in civilized life. In both conditions, man is an
animal that will not bear pampering.
From these people Mr. Hunt for the first time received vague but deeply interesting
intelligence of that part of the enterprise which had proceeded by sea to the mouth of
the Columbia. The Indians spoke of a number of white men who had built a large house
at the mouth of the great river, and surrounded it with palisades. None of them had
been down to Astoria themselves; but rumors spread widely and rapidly from mouth to
mouth among the Indian tribes, and are carried to the heart of the interior by hunting
parties and migratory hordes.
The establishment of a trading emporium at such a point, also, was calculated to cause
a sensation to the most remote parts of the vast wilderness beyond the mountains. It in
a manner struck the pulse of the great vital river, and vibrated up all its tributary
It is surprising to notice how well this remote tribe of savages had learnt, through
intermediate gossips, the private feelings of the colonists at Astoria; it shows that
Indians are not the incurious and indifferent observers that they have been
represented. They told Mr. Hunt that the white people at the large house had been
looking anxiously for many of their friends, whom they had expected to descend the
great river; and had been in much affliction, fearing that they were lost. Now, however,
the arrival of him and his party would wipe away all their tears, and they would dance
and sing for joy.
On the 31st of January, Mr. Hunt arrived at the falls of the Columbia, and encamped at
the village of the Wish-ram, situated at the head of that dangerous pass of the river
called "the Long Narrows".