it was fallen very low, and all the secrets of its treacherous shallows
were exposed to view. It was frightful to see the dead and broken trees,
thick-set as a military abatis, firmly imbedded in the sand, and all
pointing down stream, ready to impale any unhappy steamboat that at high
water should pass over that dangerous ground.

In five or six days we began to see signs of the great western movement
that was then taking place. Parties of emigrants, with their tents and
wagons, would be encamped on open spots near the bank, on their way to
the common rendezvous at Independence. On a rainy day, near sunset, we
reached the landing of this place, which is situated some miles from
the river, on the extreme frontier of Missouri. The scene was
characteristic, for here were represented at one view the most
remarkable features of this wild and enterprising region. On the muddy
shore stood some thirty or forty dark slavish-looking Spaniards, gazing
stupidly out from beneath their broad hats. They were attached to one of
the Santa Fe companies, whose wagons were crowded together on the banks
above. In the midst of these, crouching over a smoldering fire, was a
group of Indians, belonging to a remote Mexican tribe. One or two French
hunters from the mountains with their long hair and buckskin dresses,
were looking at the boat; and seated on a log close at hand were three
men, with rifles lying across their knees. The foremost of these, a
tall, strong figure, with a clear blue eye and an open, intelligent
face, might very well represent that race of restless and intrepid
pioneers whose axes and rifles have opened a path from the Alleghenies
to the western prairies. He was on his way to Oregon, probably a more
congenial field to him than any that now remained on this side the great
plains.

Early on the next morning we reached Kansas, about five hundred