After a day of painful and fruitless scrambling, Mr. Hunt gave up the
attempt to penetrate in this direction, and, returning to the little
stream on the skirts of the mountain, pitched his tents within six miles
of his encampment of the preceding night. He now ordered that signals
should be made for the stragglers in quest of water; but the night
passed away without their return.
The next morning, to their surprise, Rose made his appearance at the
camp, accompanied by some of his Crow associates. His unwelcome visit
revived their suspicions; but he announced himself as a messenger of
good-will from the chief, who, finding they had taken the wrong road,
had sent Rose and his companions to guide them to a nearer and better
one across the mountain.
Having no choice, being themselves utterly at fault, they set out under
this questionable escort. They had not gone far before they fell in with
the whole party of Crows, who, they now found, were going the same road
with themselves. The two cavalcades of white and red men, therefore,
pushed on together, and presented a wild and picturesque spectacle,
as, equipped with various weapons and in various garbs, with trains of
pack-horses, they wound in long lines through the rugged defiles, and up
and down the crags and steeps of the mountain.
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