We reached Huron River on the 4th of July about three o’clock in the afternoon, having come on with a fine wind. At this place we met Mr. Aitkin’s brigade of boats, seven in number, with the year’s hunts of the Fond du Lac department. I landed and wrote official notes to the Sault St. Marie and to Washington, acquainting the government with my progress, and giving intelligence of the state of the Indians.
TRADERS’ BOATS.—Mr. Aitkin reports that a great number of the Indians died of starvation, at his distant posts, during the winter, owing to the failure of the wild rice. That he collected for his own use but eight bushels, instead of about as many hundreds. That he had visited Gov. Simpson at Pembina, and found the latter unwilling to make any arrangements on the subject of discontinuing the sale of whisky to the Indians. That I was expected by the Indians on the Upper Mississippi, in consequence of the messages sent in, last fall. That efforts continue to be made by the agent at St. Peters, to draw the Chippewas to that post, notwithstanding the bloodshed and evils resulting from such visits. That a hard opposition in trade has been manifested by the Hudson’s Bay Company. That they have given out medals to strengthen and increase their influence with our Indians. And that liquor is required to oppose them at Pembina, War Road, Rainy Lake, Vermilion Lake and Grand Portage.
DOG AND PORCUPINE.—While at Huron River, we saw a lost dog left ashore, who had been goaded by hunger to attack a porcupine. The quills of the latter were stuck thickly into the sides of the nose and head of the dog. Inflammation had taken place, rendering the poor beast an object of pity and disgust.
BURROWING BIRDS.—At Point Aux Beignes (Pancake Point) one of the men caught a kingfisher by clapping his hand over an orifice in the bank. He also took from its nest six eggs. The bank was perforated by numbers of these orifices. At this point we observed the provisions of our advance camp, put in cache, to lighten it for the trip down the bay. Leaving Mr. G. Johnston and Mr. Melancthon Woolsey at this point to await the return of the canoe, I proceeded to Cascade, or, as it is generally called, Little Montreal River. Johnston and Woolsey came up during the night. Next morning an Indian came from a lodge, leading a young otter by a string. The animal played about gracefully, but we had no temptation to purchase him with our faces set to the wilderness. At the latter place, which is on