Whoever would venture into the wilderness, should provide himself with such articles of personal comfort or safety, as habits, forecast, or the particular object of pursuit or observation, require. Every one will think of arms and ammunition, but there are other things required to make life pleasant, or even tolerable in the woods. This, prior excursions had already taught me, but the lesson was repeated by those of greater experience. There were two persons who had agreed to go with me, and stick by me, to the end,--the one a native of Massachusetts, and the other, of Connecticut, both like myself, new in the field, and unacquainted with life in the woods. What they lacked in this art, they more than made up, I thought, in intelligence, enterprise and resource. The name of the first was Brigham. The other, I shall allude to, under the name of Enobitti. Some three or four other persons, natives of the region, had consented to go as hunters, or adventurers into a new field for emigration, but it so happened, that when all was ready--when every objection to the tour had been obviated, and every want supplied, and when my two eastern friends came on to the ground, these persons all quietly, and with an easy flow of reasons, backed out. In fact, my friend Brigham, was also obliged to relinquish the journey, after he had reached the point of rendezvous, i. e. Potosi. A residence on the American bottom, in Illinois, the prior summer, had exposed him to the malaria of that otherwise attractive agricultural area, and an intermittent fever, which he had thus contracted, forbade his venturing beyond the settlements. So that when the appointed day arrived, Enobitti and myself and my good landlord, Ficklin--a warm hearted Kentuckian, who had been a hunter and border spy in his youth, were all the persons I could number, and the latter, only went a short distance, out of the goodness of his heart, and love of forest adventure, to set us, as it were, on the way, and initiate us into some necessary forest arts. It was a bright balmy day,--the 6th of November, 1818. The leaves were rapidly falling from the trees, and strewed the road and made a musical rustling among the branches, as we passed the summits of the mine hills, which separated the valley of Mine a Burton from the next adjoining stream. The air had just enough of the autumn freshness in it, to make it inspiring; and we walked forward, with the double animation of health and hope. As we passed through forests where the hickory abounded, the fox and grey squirrel were frequently seen preparing their winter's stores, and gave additional animation to the scene. It was early in the afternoon when we came into the valley of Bates' Creek--it was indeed but a few miles from our starting point, where our kind Mentor told us, it was best to encamp; for, in the first place, it was the only spot where we could obtain _water_ for a long distance, and