They had not proceeded far, however, when the Indians assembled again in battle array, and taking up a position some distance ahead, appeared determined to dispute the passage. But Mr. Stuart was on the alert, and took up his station on a rock some distance from the shore, and from the savages also; when, after a momentary suspense, and many wild flourishes and threats on the part of the Indians, a parley ensued, and Mr. Stuart had the good fortune to negociate a peace. Six blankets and a few trifling articles satisfied the Indians, or at least they preferred them to the doubtful issue of a second attack. As soon, therefore, as they had received the stipulated oblation for their dead, they retired, and our friends pursued their journey without any further molestation; but for some days and nights after, our party kept a good look-out. Mr. Stuart, although brave and prudent, erred in attempting to pass the portage in the night; that stealthy proceeding revealed their fears or weakness, and was, in all probability, the cause of the whole disaster. Mr. Reed gradually recovered, but the despatches were lost; so that there was an end to the expedition overland. Mr. Reed and his men therefore accompanied Mr. Stuart, as did Mr. Farnham and the _cache_ party; it not being considered prudent to divide. The party now continued their route together, and arrived safe at Oakinacken on the 24th {187} of April. Here they remained for five days, when the party left for Astoria, in four canoes, carrying off with them 2500 beaver skins. Mr. David Stuart and two of our men accompanied the party down, leaving at Oakinacken only myself, Mr. Donald M‘Gillis, and one man. On their way down, one morning a little after sunrise, while near the Umatallow River, where a crowd of Indians were assembled together, they were hailed loudly in English to “come on shore.” The canoes instantly closed together, and listened with some anxiety to hear the words repeated. They had no sooner done so than the voice again called out to “come on shore.” To shore the canoes instantly steered; when, to the surprise of all, who should be there, standing like two spectres, but Mr. Crooks and John Day, who, it will be remembered, had been left by Mr. Hunt among the Snake Indians the preceding autumn; but so changed and emaciated were they, that our people for some time could scarcely recognise them to be white men; and we cannot do better here than give their story in their own words. The following is, therefore, Mr. Crooks’s account of their adventures and their sufferings:—