though like the rest of the party they carried bundles on their backs, rush forward and throttle the poor animal as it strove to escape.[1] The night was very cold, and our bivouac was on the side of a barren mountain.
Next day we traversed a range of wild rugged hills of naked rock, to the south branch of Kendall River: then, ascending the valley, we discovered in the evening smoke issuing out of the solitary cluster of pines where I slept on the 4th of April. We marched along the hillsides, and, when within hearing, discharged our guns; upon which several fires were simultaneously kindled. Descending from the heights, we crossed the streamlet, and found a numerous camp of Hare Indian women and children; the men being out a-hunting, or gone to Fort Confidence with meat. These kind people were delighted to see us, and offered us food. The greeting which our two hunters—their relatives—received was boisterously affectionate. The old women closed around them, hugged them over and over again, and, in the transports of their joy, even
- ↑ These dogs, contrary to our expectation, proved very inferior in the sledge to our own European breed; their size being considerably smaller, after due allowance for their bushy coats and the shortness of their leg unfitting them for making their way through deep snow.
