Letters all written to friends, and everybody supposed to have any particular interest in the person or individual who wrote them; the letters placed in the hands of Captain Wyeth; mission camp overhauled and assorted; all goods supposed unnecessary, or that could be replaced, such as irons for plows, blacksmith's tools, useless kettles, etc., etc., disposed of. (All articles left, the party were careful to learn, could be had at Vancouver of the Hudson's Bay Company, or Methodist Mission, at reasonable prices.) Tents struck; good-byes said; over the party goes to Horse Creek, not far from the Nez Percé camp, where we found that of McLeod and McKay. Soon after we reached camp, along comes Dr. Whitman with his wagon, notwithstanding all parties and persons, except the Indians, advised him to leave it. He was literally alone in his determination to get his old wagon through on to the waters of the Columbia, and to the mission station that might be established no one knew where. The man that says Dr. Whitman is fickle-minded, knows nothing of his character and less of his moral worth. Next day, all camps, including those of the Flathead and Nez Percé Indians, were "raised," as the expression is, and on we went; the Hudson's Bay Company and mission camp, or caravan, together, Dr. Whitman in charge of his wagon, with some Indians to help him. They seemed rather to get the Doctor's ideas of this _chick-chick-shauile-kai-kash_ (iron rolling carriage), and hunted a road around the bad places, and helped him along when he required their assistance. Our route was nearly the same as the great overland route to Bear River and Soda Springs.