On the 14th and 15th, we passed what are called the great plains of the Columbia. From the top of the first rapid to this point, the aspect of the country becomes more and more triste and disagreeable; one meets at first nothing but bare hills, which scarcely offer a few isolated pines, at a great distance from each other; after that, the earth, stripped of verdure, does not afford you the sight of a single shrub; the little grass which grows in that arid soil, appears burnt by the rigor of the climate. The natives who frequent the banks of the river, for the salmon fishery, have no other wood but that which they take floating {266} down. We passed several rapids, and a small stream called Utalah, which flows from the southeast.[141]
On the 16th, we found the river narrowed; the banks rose on either side in elevations, without, however, offering a single tree. We reached the river Wallawalla, which empties into the Columbia on the southeast. It is narrow at its confluence, and is not navigable for any great distance.[142] A range of mountains was visible to the S. E., about fifty or sixty miles off. Behind these mountains the country becomes again flat and sandy, and is inhabited by a tribe called the Snakes. We found on the left bank of the Wallawalla, an encampment of Indians, consisting of about twenty lodges. They sold us six dogs and eight horses, the greater part extremely lean. We killed two of the horses immediately: I mounted one of the six that remained; Mr. Ross took another; and we drove the other four before us. Toward the decline of day we passed the river Lewis, called, in the language of the country, the Sha-ap-tin. It comes from the S. E., and is the {267} same that Lewis and Clarke de-*
