A couple more of weary days and watchful nights brought them to a strong and rapid stream, running due north, which they concluded to be one of the upper branches of Snake River.  It was probably the same since called Salt River.

They determined to bend their course down this river, as it would take them still further out of the dangerous neighborhood of the Crows.  They then would strike upon Mr. Hunt’s track of the preceding autumn, and retrace it across the mountains.  The attempt to find a better route under guidance of Mr. Miller had cost them a large bend to the south; in resuming Mr. Hunt’s track, they would at least be sure of their road.  They accordingly turned down along the course of this stream, and at the end of three days’ journey came to where it was joined by a larger river, and assumed a more impetuous character, raging and roaring among rocks and precipices.  It proved, in fact, to be Mad River, already noted in the expedition of Mr. Hunt.  On the banks of this river, they encamped on the 18th of September, at an early hour.

Six days had now elapsed since their interview with the Crows; during that time they had come nearly a hundred and fifty miles to the north and west, without seeing any signs of those marauders.  They considered themselves, therefore, beyond the reach of molestation, and began to relax in their vigilance, lingering occasionally for part of a day, where there was good pasturage.  The poor horses needed repose.

They had been urged on, by forced marches, over rugged heights, among rocks and fallen timber, or over low swampy valleys, inundated by the labors of the beaver.  These industrious animals abounded in all the mountain streams and watercourses, wherever there were willows for their subsistence.  Many of them they had so completely dammed up as to inundate the low grounds, making shallow pools or lakes, and extensive quagmires; by which the route of the travellers was often impeded.

On the 19th of September, they rose at early dawn; some began to prepare breakfast, and others to arrange the packs preparatory to a march.  The horses had been hobbled, but left at large to graze upon the adjacent pasture.  Mr. Stuart was on the bank of a river, at a short distance from the camp, when he heard the alarm cry—­“Indians!  Indians!—­to arms! to arms!”

A mounted Crow galloped past the camp, bearing a red flag.  He reined his steed on the summit of a neighboring knoll, and waved his flaring banner.  A diabolical yell now broke forth on the opposite side of the camp, beyond where the horses were grazing, and a small troop of savages came galloping up, whooping and making a terrific clamor.  The horses took fright, and dashed across the camp in the direction of the standard-bearer, attracted by his waving flag.  He instantly put spurs to his steed, and scoured off followed by the panic-stricken herd, their fright being increased by the yells of the savages in their rear.