Tuesday 8.  We set out at nine o’clock.  At eight and a half miles we passed an island:  four and a half miles lower a second island, opposite a small creek on the left side of the river.  Five miles lower is another island on the left:  a mile and a half below which is a fourth.  At a short distance from this is a large creek from the right, to which we gave the name of Colter’s creek, from Colter one of the men.  We had left this creek about a mile and a half, and were passing the last of fifteen rapids which we had been fortunate enough to escape, when one of the canoes struck, and a hole being made in her side, she immediately filled and sunk.  The men, several of whom could not swim, clung to the boat till one of our canoes could be unloaded, and with the assistance of an Indian boat, they were all brought to shore.  All the goods were so much wet, that we were obliged to halt for the night, and spread them out to dry.  While all this was exhibited, it was necessary to place two sentinels over the merchandise, for we found that the Indians, though kind and disposed to give us every aid during our distress, could not resist the temptation of pilfering some of the small articles.  We passed during our route of twenty miles to-day, several encampments of Indians on the islands, and near the rapids, which places are chosen as most convenient for taking salmon.  At one of these camps we found our two chiefs, who after promising to descend the river with us, had left us; they however willingly came on board after we had gone through the ceremony of smoking.

Wednesday, 9.  The morning was as usual, cool; but as the weather both yesterday and to-day was cloudy, our merchandise dried but slowly.  The boat, though much injured, was repaired by ten o’clock so as to be perfectly fit for service; but we were obliged to remain during the day till the articles were sufficiently dry to be reloaded:  the interval we employed in purchasing fish for the voyage and conversing with the Indians.  In the afternoon we were surprised at hearing that our old Shoshonee guide and his son had left us, and been seen running up the river several miles above.  As he had never given any notice of his intention, nor had even received his pay for guiding us, we could not imagine the cause of his desertion, nor did he ever return to explain his conduct.  We requested the chief to send a horseman after him to request that he would return and receive what we owed him.  From this however he dissuaded us, and said very frankly, that his nation, the Chopunnish, would take from the old man any presents that he might have on passing their camp.

The Indians came about our camp at night, and were very gay and good-humoured with the men.  Among other exhibitions was that of a squaw who appeared to be crazy:  she sang in a wild incoherent manner, and would offer to the spectators all the little articles she possessed, scarifying herself in a horrid manner if any one refused her present:  she seemed to be an object of pity among the Indians, who suffered her to do as she pleased without interruption.