that he hid himself in the boat, and as soon as we landed got his gun and told us that he wanted to return, that we would now see no more Tetons, and that we might proceed unmolested:  we repeated the advice we had already given, presented him with a blanket, a knife, some tobacco, and after smoking with him he set out.  We then continued to a sandbar on the north side, where we encamped, having come twenty and a half miles.  In the course of the day we saw a number of sandbars which impede the navigation.  The only animal which we observed was the white gull, then in great abundance.

October 1st, 1804.  The weather was very cold and the wind high from the southeast during the night, and continued so this morning.  At three miles distance, we had passed a large island in the middle of the river, opposite to the lower end of which the Ricaras once had a village on the south side of the river:  there are, however, no remnants of it now, except a circular wall three or four feet in height, which encompassed the town.  Two miles beyond this island is a river coming in from the southwest, about four hundred yards wide; the current gentle, and discharging not much water, and very little sand:  it takes its rise in the second range of the Cote Noire or Black mountains, and its general course is nearly east; this river has been occasionally called Dog river, under a mistaken opinion that its French name was Chien, but its true appellation is Chayenne, and it derives this title from the Chayenne Indians:  their history is the short and melancholy relation of the calamities of almost all the Indians.  They were a numerous people and lived on the Chayenne, a branch of the Red river of Lake Winnipeg.  The invasion of the Sioux drove them westward; in their progress they halted on the southern side of the Missouri below the Warreconne, where their ancient fortifications still exist; but the same impulse again drove them to the heads of the Chayenne, where they now rove, and occasionally visit the Ricaras.  They are now reduced, but still number three hundred men.

Although the river did not seem to throw out much sand, yet near and above its mouth we find a great many sandbars difficult to pass.  On both sides of the Missouri, near the Chayenne, are rich thinly timbered lowlands, behind which are bare hills.  As we proceeded, we found that the sandbars made the river so shallow, and the wind was so high, that we could scarcely find the channel, and at one place were forced to drag the boat over a sandbar, the Missouri being very wide and falling a little.  At seven and a half miles we came to at a point, and remained three hours, during which time the wind abated:  we then passed within four miles two creeks on the south, one of which we called Centinel creek, and the other Lookout creek.  This part of the river has but little timber; the hills are not so high as we have hitherto seen, and the number of sandbars extends the river to more than a mile in breadth.  We continued about four and a half miles further, to a sandbar in the middle of the river, where we spent the night, our progress being sixteen miles.  On the opposite shore, we saw a house among the willows and a boy to whom we called, and brought him on board.  He proved to be a young Frenchman in the employ of a Mr. Valle a trader, who is now here pursuing his commerce with the Sioux.