the latter that his people would not remain longer with Terry's column, because of the inefficiency of its transportation; with such mules nothing could be done; the infantry was all right, and so was part of the cavalry, but the pack-train was no good, and was simply impeding progress. The steamer "Far West," Captain Grant Marsh, was sent up the river to the mouth of the Rosebud to bring down all the supplies to be found in the depot at that point, but returned with very little for so many mouths as we now had—about four thousand all told.
A great many fine agates were found in the Yellowstone near the Powder, and so common were they that nearly all provided themselves with souvenirs from that source. Colonel Burt was sent up the river to try to induce the Crows to send some of their warriors to take the places soon to be vacated by the Shoshones, as Crook foresaw that without native scouts the expedition might as well be abandoned. Burt was unsuccessful in his mission, and all our scouts left with the exception of the much-disparaged "Ute John," who expressed his determination to stick it out to the last.
Mackinaw boats, manned by adventurous traders from Montana, had descended the river loaded with all kinds of knick-knacks for the use of the soldiers; these were retailed at enormous prices, but eagerly bought by men who had no other means of getting rid of their money. Besides the "Mackinaw," which was made of rough timber framework, the waters of the Yellowstone and the Missouri were crossed by the "bull-boat," which bore a close resemblance to the basket "coracle" of the west coast of Ireland, and, like it, was a framework of willow or some kind of basketry covered with the skins of the buffalo, or other bovine; in these frail hemispherical barks squaws would paddle themselves and baggage and pappooses across the swift-running current and gain the opposite bank in safety.
At the mouth of Powder there was a sutler's store packed from morning till night with a crowd of expectant purchasers. To go in there was all one's life was worth: one moment a soldier stepped on one of your feet, and the next some two-hundred-pound packer favored the other side in the same manner. A disagreeable sand-storm drove Colonel Stanton and myself to the shelter of the lunette constructed by Lieutenant William P. Clarke, Second Cavalry, who had descended the Yellowstone
