We were camped, as we had discovered during our frequent excursions, at the head of a great fall of Green River, where it passes through the Utah Mountains.  The current, at a small distance from our camp, became exceedingly rapid, and drew toward the centre from each shore.  This place we named the Suck.  This fall continued for six or eight miles, making a sheer descent, in the entire distance, of over two hundred and fifty feet.  The river was filled with rocks and ledges, and frequent sharp curves, having high mountains and perpendicular cliffs on either side.  Below our camp, the river passed through a canyon, which continued below the fall to a distance of twenty-five or thirty miles.  Wherever there was an eddy or a growth of willows, there was sure to be found a beaver lodge; the cunning creatures having selected that secluded, and, as they doubtless considered, inaccessible spot, to conceal themselves from the watchful eye of the trapper.

After caching our peltry and goods by burying them in safe places, we received instructions from our general to rendezvous at the “Suck” by the first of July following.  Bidding each other adieu, for we could hardly expect we should meet again, we took up our different lines of march.

Our party was led by one Clements, and consisted of six, among whom was the boy Baptiste; he always insisted on remaining with his brother (as he called me).  Our route was up the river—­a country that none of us had ever seen before—­ where the foot of the white man has seldom, if ever, left its print.  We were very successful in finding beaver as we progressed, and we obtained plenty of game for the wants of our small party.  Wherever we hauled up a trap, we usually found a beaver, besides a considerable number we killed with the rifle.

In moving up the river we came to a small stream—­one of the tributaries of Green River—­which we named Horse Creek, in honour of a wild horse we found on its banks.  The creek abounded with the objects of our search, and in a very few days we succeeded in taking over one hundred beavers, the skins of which were worth ten dollars per pound in St. Louis.  Sixty skins, when dried, formed a pack of one hundred pounds.  After having finished our work on Horse Creek, we returned to the main river, and proceeded on, meeting with very good success, until we encountered another branch, which we subsequently named Le Brache Creek, from our comrade who was murdered by the Indians.  Our success was much greater here than at any point since leaving the Suck, and we followed it up until we came to a deep canyon, in which we camped.

The next day, while the men were variously engaged about the camp, happening to be in a more elevated position than the others, I saw a party of Indians approaching within a few yards, evidently unaware of our being in their neighbourhood.  I immediately