when the river makes a short bend nearly west. Here, on the south side, were observed two pillars on the top of an eminence, standing erect side by side, which we named the Two Sisters.[43] They proved to be of limestone, and at a little distance very much resembled two human figures. From the Two Sisters, the river turns to the north again, where once more we had a sight of the open country. Nature, in these gloomy defiles just passed through, wears the dreary aspect of eternal winter. On the west, the hills are clothed with woods; but on the east side, the plains are bleak and barren. On a {138} beautiful green spot, near a small Indian camp, we put ashore and passed the night. Here the priest, for the reader must know he had still followed us, introduced us to a friendly Indian, called Ma-chy-keu-etsa, or the Walking Bear. This gray-headed, little, old man made us comprehend that he had seen eighty-four winters or snows, as he expressed himself—he looked very old, but was still active, and walked well.
On the 24th we embarked early, and soon reached the mouth of Pisscow's river, a beautiful stream, which empties itself into the Columbia, through a low valley, skirted on each side by high hills. Its mouth, in the present high state of the water, is eighty yards broad.[44] Here the
