cut off his retreat, and take him in the rear.  One of the worthies stationed himself in the bow, with the cord and slip-noose, the other, with the Nez Perce, managed the paddles.  There was nothing further from the thoughts of honest Bruin, however, than to beat a retreat.  Just as the canoe was drawing near, he turned suddenly round and made for it, with a horrible snarl and a tremendous show of teeth.  The affrighted hunter called to his comrades to paddle off.  Scarce had they turned the boat when the bear laid his enormous claws on the gunwale, and attempted to get on board.  The canoe was nearly overturned, and a deluge of water came pouring over the gunwale.  All was clamor, terror, and confusion.  Every one bawled out—­the bear roared and snarled—­one caught up a gun; but water had rendered it useless.  Others handled their paddles more effectually, and beating old Bruin about the head and claws, obliged him to relinquish his hold.  They now plied their paddles with might and main, the bear made the best of his way to shore, and so ended the second exploit of the noose; the hunters determined to have no more naval contests with grizzly bears.

The voyagers were now out of range of Crows and Black-feet; but they were approaching the country of the Rees, or Arickaras; a tribe no less dangerous; and who were, generally, hostile to small parties.

In passing through their country, Wyeth laid by all day, and drifted quietly down the river at night.  In this way he passed on, until he supposed himself safely through the region of danger; when he resumed his voyage in the open day.  On the 3d of September he had landed, at midday, to dine; and while some were making a fire, one of the hunters mounted a high bank to look out for game.  He had scarce glanced his eye round, when he perceived horses grazing on the opposite side of the river.  Crouching down he slunk back to the camp, and reported what he had seen.  On further reconnoitering, the voyagers counted twenty-one lodges; and from the number of horses, computed that there must be nearly a hundred Indians encamped there.  They now drew their boat, with all speed and caution, into a thicket of water willows, and remained closely concealed all day.  As soon as the night closed in they re-embarked.  The moon would rise early; so that they had but about two hours of darkness to get past the camp.  The night, however, was cloudy, with a blustering wind.  Silently, and with muffled oars, they glided down the river, keeping close under the shore opposite to the camp; watching its various lodges and fires, and the dark forms passing to and fro between them.  Suddenly, on turning a point of land, they found themselves close upon a camp on their own side of the river.  It appeared that not more than one half of the band had crossed.  They were within a few yards of the shore; they saw distinctly the savages—­some standing, some lying round the fire.  Horses were grazing around.  Some lodges were set up, others