Here the walls were about five hundred feet high, and the fragments of rocks from above had choked the river into a hollow pass, but one or two feet above the surface.  Through this, and the interstices of the rock, the water found its way.  Favored beyond our expectations, all our registers had been recovered, with the exception of one of my journals, which contained the notes and incidents of travel, and topographical descriptions, a number of scattered astronomical observations, principally meridian altitudes of the sun, and our barometrical register west of Laramie.  Fortunately, our other journals contained duplicates of the most important barometrical observations.  In addition to these, we saved the circle; and these, with a few blankets, constituted every thing that had been rescued from the waters.

THE RESCUE.

A young girl has been captured at her father’s hut, when all the males of the household are absent hunting wolves.  She is seized by the Indians, and borne swiftly away to the encampment of a war party of the Osages.  She is then placed in a “land canoe” and hurried rapidly forward toward their villages.  Among the party she recognizes one whose life she had been instrumental in saving, when a prisoner.  He recognizes her, and promises to assist her escape.  At this point the following narrative commences: 

At a late and solemn hour, the Indian who had been the captive the night before, suddenly ceased his snoring, which had been heard without intermission for a great length of time; and when Mary instinctively cast her eyes toward him, she was surprised to see him gently and slowly raise his head.  He enjoined silence by placing his hand upon his mouth.  After carefully disengaging himself from his comrades, he crept quietly away, and soon vanished entirely from sight on the northern side of the spreading beech.  Mary expected he would soon return and assist her to escape.  Although she was aware of the hardships and perils that would attend her flight, yet the thought of again meeting her friends was enough to nerve her for the undertaking, and she waited with anxious impatience the coming of her rescuer.  But he came not.  She could attribute no other design in his conduct but that of effecting her escape, and yet he neither came for her, nor beckoned her away.  She had reposed confidence in his promise, for she knew that the Indian, savage as he was, rarely forfeited his word; but when gratitude inspired a pledge, she could not believe that he would use deceit.  The fire was now burning quite low, and its waning light scarce cast a beam upon the branches overhead.  It was evidently not far from morning, and every hope of present escape entirely fled from her bosom.  But just as she was yielding to despair, she saw the Indian returning in a stealthy pace, bearing some dark object in his arms.  He glided to her side, and motioned to her to leave the snow-canoe, and also to take with