It now became necessary to guard against other evils.  The season of scarcity arrived, which commences in October, and lasts until the end of January.  To provide for the support of the garrison, the shallop was employed to forage about the shores of the river.  A number of the men, also, under the command of some of the clerks, were sent to quarter themselves on the banks of the Wollamut (the Multnomah of Lewis and Clarke), a fine river which disembogues itself into the Columbia, about sixty miles above Astoria.  The country bordering on the river is finely diversified with prairies and hills, and forests of oak, ash, maple, and cedar.  It abounded, at that time, with elk and deer, and the streams were well stocked with beaver.  Here the party, after supplying their own wants, were enabled to pack up quantities of dried meat, and send it by canoes to Astoria.

The month of October elapsed without the return of the Beaver.  November, December, January, passed away, and still nothing was seen or heard of her.  Gloomy apprehensions now began to be entertained:  she might have been wrecked in the course of her coasting voyage, or surprised, like the Tonquin, by some of the treacherous tribes of the north.

No one indulged more in these apprehensions than M’Dougal, who had now the charge of the establishment.  He no longer evinced the bustling confidence and buoyancy which once characterized him.  Command seemed to have lost its charms for him, or rather, he gave way to the most abject despondency, decrying the whole enterprise, magnifying every untoward circumstance, and foreboding nothing but evil.

While in this moody state, he was surprised, on the 16th of January, by the sudden appearance of M’Kenzie, wayworn and weather-beaten by a long wintry journey from his post on the Shahaptan, and with a face the very frontispiece for a volume of misfortune.  M’Kenzie had been heartily disgusted and disappointed at his post.  It was in the midst of the Tushepaws, a powerful and warlike nation, divided into many tribes, under different chiefs, who possessed innumerable horses, but, not having turned their attention to beaver trapping, had no furs to offer.  According to M’Kenzie, they were but a “rascally tribe;” from which we may infer that they were prone to consult their own interests more than comported with the interests of a greedy Indian trader.

Game being scarce, he was obliged to rely, for the most part, on horse-flesh for subsistence, and the Indians discovering his necessities, adopted a policy usual in civilized trade, and raised the price of horses to an exorbitant rate, knowing that he and his men must eat or die.  In this way, the goods he had brought to trade for beaver skins, were likely to be bartered for horseflesh, and all the proceeds devoured upon the spot.