That day they came upon the trail of a horse, and in the evening halted on the bank of a small stream which had evidently been an Indian camping-place about three weeks ago.

In the morning when ready to leave, they again saw the Indian trail, which after a while separated in every direction, showing that the band had broken up into small hunting-parties.  In all probability the savages were still somewhere in the vicinity, so it behooved the white men to move with the greatest caution.  The utmost vigilance was exercised, but not a sign was seen, and at night they camped in a deep ravine which concealed them from the level of the surrounding country.

The next morning at daylight the march was resumed, but before they came out of the ravine on to the level prairie a council was held as to the best course to pursue.  It was deemed prudent to make a bee-line across the mountains, over which the trail would be very rugged and difficult, but more secure.  One of the party named M’Lellan, a bull-headed, impatient Scotchman, who had been rendered more so by the condition of his feet which were terribly swollen and sore, swore he had rather face all the Blackfeet in the country than attempt the tedious journey over the mountains.  As the others did not agree with his opinion, they all began to climb the hills, the younger men trying to see who would reach the top of the divide first.  M’Lellan, who was double the age of some of his companions, began to fall in the rear for want of breath.  It was his turn that day to carry the old beaver-trap, and finding himself so far behind the others, he suddenly stopped and declared he would carry it no farther, at the same time throwing it as far down the hill as he could.  He was then offered a package of dried meat in its place, but this in his rage he threw upon the ground, asserting that those might carry it who wanted it; he could secure all the food he wanted with his rifle.  Then turning off from the party he walked along the base of the mountain, letting those, he said, climb rocks who were afraid to face Indians.  Mr. Stuart and all his companions attempted to impress him with the rashness of his conduct, but M’Lellan was deaf to every remonstrance and kept on the way he had determined to go.

As they felt they were now in a dangerous neighbourhood, and did not dare to fire a rifle, they were compelled to depend upon the old beaver-trap for their subsistence.  The stream on which they were encamped was filled with beaver sign, and the redoubtable Ben Jones set out at daybreak with the hope of catching one of the sleek fur animals.  While making his way through a bunch of willows he heard a crashing sound to his right, and looking in that direction, saw a huge grizzly bear coming toward him with a terrible snort.  The Kentuckian was afraid of neither man nor beast, and drawing up his rifle, let fly.  The bear was wounded, but instead of rushing upon his foe as is usually the case with a wounded grizzly, he ran back into the thicket and thus escaped.