More and Foy had been surprised and murdered by the Blackfeet. The
feelings of the captain were shocked at beholding the bones of these
unfortunate young men bleaching among the rocks; and he caused them to
be decently interred.

On the 3d of September he arrived on the summit of a mountain which
commanded a full view of the eventful valley of Pierre's Hole; whence he
could trace the winding of its stream through green meadows, and
forests of willow and cotton-wood, and have a prospect, between distant
mountains, of the lava plains of Snake River, dimly spread forth like a
sleeping ocean below.

After enjoying this magnificent prospect, he descended into the valley,
and visited the scenes of the late desperate conflict. There were the
remains of the rude fortress in the swamp, shattered by rifle shot, and
strewed with the mingled bones of savages and horses. There was the late
populous and noisy rendezvous, with the traces of trappers' camps and
Indian lodges; but their fires were extinguished, the motley assemblage
of trappers and hunters, white traders and Indian braves, had all
dispersed to different points of the wilderness, and the valley had
relapsed into its pristine solitude and silence.

That night the captain encamped upon the battle ground; the next day he
resumed his toilsome peregrinations through the mountains. For upwards
of two weeks he continued his painful march; both men and horses
suffering excessively at times from hunger and thirst. At length, on the
19th of September, he reached the upper waters of Salmon River.

The weather was cold, and there were symptoms of an impending storm. The
night set in, but Buckeye, the Delaware Indian, was missing. He had left