It was now manifest, from our crossing the last two streams, that we were going too far north--that we were in fact in the valley of the Missouri proper; and that the information obtained of the hunters on the source of the Merrimack, was not to be implicitly relied on. It is not probable that one of the persons who gave this information had ever been here. It was a region they were kept out of by the fear of the Osages, as our own experience in the case of Roberts denoted. Willing to test it farther, however, we followed down the last named stream a few miles, in the hope of its turning south or south-west, but it went off in another direction. We then came to a halt, and after consulting together, steered our course due _south_ south-west, thus varying our general course from the caves. This carried us up a long range of wooded highlands. The forest here assumed a handsome growth. We passed through a track of the over-cup oak, interspersed with hickory, and had reached the summit of an elevated wooded ridge, when just as we gained the highest point, we discovered four bears on a large oak, in the valley before us. Three of the number were probably cubs, and with their dam, they were regaling themselves on the ripe acorns without observing us. We had sought no opportunities to hunt, and given up no especial time to it, but here was too fair a challenge to be neglected. We tied our horse securely to a sapling, and then examining our pieces, and putting down an extra ball, set out to descend the hill as cautiously as possible. An unlucky slip of Enobitti threw him with force forward and sprained his ankle. He lay for a short time in agony. This noise alarmed the bears, who one after the other quickly ran in from the extremities of the limbs to the trunk, which they descended head first, and scampered clumsily off up the valley. I pursued them without minding my companion, not knowing, indeed how badly he was hurt, but was compelled to give up the chase, as the tall grass finally prevented my seeing what course they had taken. I now returned to my companion. He could not stand at first, nor walk when he arose, and the first agony had passed. I proposed to mount him on the pack horse, and lead him slowly up the valley, and this plan was carried into effect. But he endured too much suffering to bear even this. The ankle began to inflame. There was nothing but rest and continued repose that promised relief. I selected a fine grassy spot to encamp, unpacked the horse, built a fire, and got my patient comfortably stretched on his pallet. But little provision had been made at Potosi in the medical department. My whole store of pharmacy consisted of some pills and salves, and a few simple articles. The only thing I could think of as likely to be serviceable, was in our culinary pack,--it was a little sack of salt, and of this I made a solution in warm water and bathed the ankle. I then replenished the fire and cut some wood to renew it.