In the evening, we again started, and encamped, an hour after sun-down, upon the banks of a clear running stream.  We had, during the last part of our journey, discovered the tops of three or four high mountains in the distance; we knew them to be “The Crows,” by the description of them given to us by the Wakoes.

Early the next morning we were awakened by the warbling of innumerable singing birds, perched among the bushes along the borders of the stream.  Pleasing as was the concert, we were obliged to leave it behind and pursue our weary march.  Throughout the day we had an excellent road, and when night came we had travelled about thirty-five miles.  The mountains, the summits of which we had perceived the evening before were now plainly visible, and answered to the descriptions of the Wakoes as those in the neighbourhood of the narrows of the Red River.

We now considered that we were near the end of our journey.  That night we swallowed a very scanty supper, lay down to sleep, and dreamed of beaver-tail and buffalo-hump and tongues.  The next day, at noon, we crossed the bed of a stream, which was evidently a large river during the rainy season.  At that time but little water was found in it, and that so salt, it was impossible even for our horses to drink it.

Towards night, we came to the banks of a clear stream, the waters of which were bubbling along, over a bed of golden sand, running nearly north and south, while at a distance of some six miles, and to our left, was the chain of hills I had previously mentioned; rising above the rest were three peaks, which really deserved the name of mountains.  We crossed the stream, and encamped on the other side.  Scarcely had we unsaddled our horses, when we perceived coming towards us a large party of savages, whose war-paint, with the bleeding scalps hanging to their belts, plainly showed the errand from which they were returning.  They encamped on the other side of the stream, within a quarter of a mile from us.

That night we passed watching, shivering, and fasting, for we dared not light a fire in the immediate vicinity of our neighbours, whom we could hear singing and rejoicing.  The next morning, long before dawn, we stole away quietly, and trotted briskly till noon, when we encountered a deep and almost impassable ravine.  There we were obliged to halt, and pass the remainder of the day endeavouring to discover a passage.  This occupied us till nightfall, and we had nothing to eat but plums and berries.  Melancholy were our thoughts when we reflected upon the difficulties we might shortly have to encounter, and gloomy were our forebodings as we wrapt ourselves in our blankets, half starved, and oppressed with feelings of uncertainty as to our present position and our future destinies.