Contents ▼▲
Front Matter The Fur Traders Why I Am Not a Fur Trader Plan For the Future An Inquisitive Stranger An Unexpected Proposition I Set Out as a Guide John Mitchell's Outfit Making the Bargain We Leave St. Louis Hardships Encountered The Camp at Independence A Frontier Town The Start from Independence Careless Travelers Overrun by Wild Horses Searching for Live Stock Abandoning Missing Animals Meeting with Other Emigrants A Tempest Facing the Indians Teaching the Pawnees The Pawnee Village A Bold Demand I Gain Credit as a Guide A Difficult Crossing Wash Day Indian Pictures A Plague of Wood Ticks Another Tempest Cattle Stampeded Again Difficult Traveling Colonel Kearny's Dragoons Disagreeable Visitors Driving Away the Indians Turkey Hunting Eager Hunters Antelope Country Shooting Antelopes A Pawnee Visitor The Pawnees Frighten Us Defending Ourselves Scarcity of Fuel Lame Oxen An Army of Emigrants The Buffalo Country Hunting Buffaloes My Mother's Advice Ash Hollow Post Office New Comrades Fort Laramie A Sioux Encampment Indians on the March The Fourth of July Multitudes of Buffaloes We Meet Colonel Kearny Across the Divide Fort Bridger Trading at Fort Hall Thievish Snakes The Hot Springs Falls of the Snake River Signs of the Indians Beset with Danger Hunger and Thirst Nearly Exhausted Arrival at Fort Boise On the Trail Once More Cayuse Indians The Columbla River An Indian Ferry The Dalles of the Columbia Our Live Stock My Work as Guide Ended I Become a Farmer

Antoine of Oregon - James Otis




On the Trail Once More

I understood that such advice was good, and when John Mitchell would have lingered despite the advice of the trappers, I took it upon myself to insist that we go forward, picturing to him in the most vivid colors the result if winter came upon us before we had scaled the mountain range.

in order that we might not overtax our newly acquired strength, we brought the first day's march from Fort Boise to an end at the bank of the Malheur River, sixteen miles distant. Next day we traveled thirty-one miles to Burnt River, where we halted one day to make ready for a sixty-mile journey to Powder River.

To make any attempt at describing this part of our journey would be repeating the words I have set down many times before. The trail was as rough as can well be imagined, and the labor of getting the heavy wagons along quite as great as had been found elsewhere.

Because of the supplies bought at Fort Boise, we did not suffer greatly from hunger, although we were allowed only a small portion of food each day; but the animals were in a half-famished condition all the while until we had arrived at the Grande Ronde, which is a beautiful valley among the mountains, where grass can be found in abundance.

There in that excellent camping place we remained two days, the cattle meanwhile feeding greedily, as if realizing that it was necessary they add to their strength in order to make the journey over the mountains, fifteen miles away.

[Illustration] from Antoine of Oregon by James Otis

Refreshed by the long halt, we began to climb the Blue Mountains, where the trail led over such steep ascents that it became necessary to yoke all our cattle to one wagon, pull it a mile or two up what was much like a cliff, and then drive the oxen back for another load, thus winning our advance with the greatest difficulty, and after the most severe labor traveling no more than seven miles in one day.