Even should this prove to be the Quicourt or Rapid River, it would not be prudent to winter much further down upon its banks, as, though they might be out of the range of the Sioux, they would be in the neighborhood of the Poncas, a tribe nearly as dangerous.  It was resolved, therefore, since they must winter somewhere on this side of the Missouri, to descend no lower, but to keep up in these solitary regions, where they would be in no danger of molestation.

They were brought the more promptly and unanimously to this decision, by coming upon an excellent wintering place, that promised everything requisite for their comfort.  It was on a fine bend of the river, just below where it issued out from among a ridge of mountains, and bent towards the northeast.  Here was a beautiful low point of land, covered by cotton-wood, and surrounded by a thick growth of willow, so as to yield both shelter and fuel, as well as materials for building.  The river swept by in a strong current, about a hundred and fifty yards wide.  To the southeast were mountains of moderate height, the nearest about two miles off, but the whole chain ranging to the east, south, and southwest, as far as the eye could reach.  Their summits were crowned with extensive tracts of pitch pine, checkered with small patches of the quivering aspen.  Lower down were thick forests of firs and red cedars, growing out in many places from the very fissures of the rocks.  The mountains were broken and precipitous, with huge bluffs protruding from among the forests.

Their rocky recesses and beetling cliffs afforded retreats to innumerable flocks of the bighorn, while their woody summits and ravines abounded with bears and black-tailed deer.  These, with the numerous herds of buffalo that ranged the lower grounds along the river, promised the travellers abundant cheer in their winter quarters.

On the 2d of November, therefore, they pitched their camp for the winter, on the woody point, and their first thought was to obtain a supply of provisions.  Ben Jones and the two Canadians accordingly sallied forth, accompanied by two others of the party, leaving but one to watch the camp.  Their hunting was uncommonly successful.  In the course of two days, they killed thirty-two buffaloes, and collected their meat on the margin of a small brook, about a mile distant.  Fortunately, a severe frost froze the river, so that the meat was easily transported to the encampment.  On a succeeding day, a herd of buffalo came trampling through the woody bottom on the river banks, and fifteen more were killed.

It was soon discovered, however, that there was game of a more dangerous nature in the neighborhood.  On one occasion, Mr. Crooks had wandered about a mile from the camp, and had ascended a small hill commanding a view of the river.  He was without his rifle, a rare circumstance, for in these wild regions, where one may put up a wild animal, or a wild Indian, at every turn, it is customary never to stir from the