Tuesday, July 15th, 1806. We sailed from the landing at Belle Fontaine[I-1] about 3 o'clock p. m., in two boats. Our party consisted of two lieutenants, one surgeon, one sergeant, two corporals, 16 privates and one interpreter.[I-2] We had also under our charge chiefs of the Osage and Pawnees, who, with a number of women and children, had been to Washington. These Indians had been redeemed from captivity among the Potowatomies, and were now to be returned to their friends at the Osage towns. The whole number of Indians amounted to 51.
We ascended the river about six miles, and encamped on the south side behind an island. This day my boat swung around twice; once when we had a tow-rope on shore, which it snapped off in an instant. The Indians did not encamp with us at night. Distance six miles.[I-3]
July 16th. We rejoined our red brethren at breakfast, after which we again separated, and with very severe labor arrived late in the evening opposite the village of St. Charles,[I-4] where the Indians joined us. Distance 15 miles.
July 17th. We crossed the river to learn if any communications had arrived from St. Louis, and if there was any news of other Indian enemies of the Osages. Called at Mr. James Morrison's, and was introduced to Mr. [George] Henry, of New Jersey, about 28 years of age; he spoke a little Spanish and French tolerably well; he wished to go with me as a volunteer. From this place I wrote letters back to Belle Fontaine, whilst the Indians were crossing the river. A man by the name of Ramsay reported to the Indians that 500 Sacs, Ioways, and Reynards were at the mouth of Big Manitou [_i. e._, the band under Pashepaho (Stabber) and Quashquame (Lance)]. This gave them considerable uneasiness, and it took me some time to do away the impression it made upon them, for I by no means believed it. We were about sailing when my interpreter [Vasquez] was arrested by the sheriff at the suit of Manuel De Liza [or Lisa[I-5]], for a debt between $300 and $400, and was obliged to return to St. Louis. This made it necessary for me to write another letter to the general.[I-6] We encamped about three-fourths of a mile above the village.
July 18th. Lieutenant Wilkinson and Dr. Robinson went with [one soldier and] the Indians across the country to the village of La Charette.[I-7] Mr. George Henry engaged, under oath, to accompany me on my tour. Wrote to the general, and inclosed him one of Henry's engagements.[I-8] After we had made our little arrangements we marched by land and joined the boats, which had sailed early [in charge of Sergeant Ballenger], at twelve o'clock. Two of the men being sick, I steered one boat and Mr. Henry the other, by which means we were enabled to keep employed our full complement of oars, although we put the sick men on shore. Encamped on the north side. About eleven at night a tremendous thunderstorm arose, and it continued to blow and rain, with thunder and lightning, until day. Distance 15 miles.[I-9]
July 19th. In consequence of the rain we did not put off until past nine o'clock; my sick men marched. I had some reason to suspect that one of them [Kennerman[I-10]] intended never joining us again. At dinner time the sick man of my own boat came on board; I then went on board the other, and we continued to run races all day. Although this boat had hitherto kept behind, yet I arrived at the encamping ground with her nearly half an hour before the other. The current not generally so strong as below. Distance 14 miles.[I-11]
Sunday, July 20th. Embarked about sunrise. Wishing to ascertain the temperature of the water, I discovered my large thermometer to be missing, which probably had fallen into the river. Passed one settlement on the north side, and, after turning the point to the south, saw two more houses on the south side. We encamped [on the south] in a long reach which bore north and west. The absentees had not yet joined us. Distance 15 miles.[I-12]
July 21st. It commenced raining near day, and continued until four o'clock in the afternoon; the rain was immensely heavy, with thunder and lightning remarkably severe. This obliged me to lie by; for, if we proceeded with our boats, it necessarily exposed our baggage much more than when at rest, as the tarpaulin could then cover all. We set sail at a quarter past four o'clock, and arrived at the village of La Charette at a little after the dusk of the evening. Here we found Lieutenant Wilkinson and Dr. Robinson with the Indians; also, Baroney [Vasquez[I-13]], our interpreter, with letters from the general and our friends. The weather still continued cloudy, with rain. We were received in the house of Mr. Chartron, and every accommodation in his power was offered us. Distance six miles.[I-14]
July 22d. We arranged our boats, dried our lading, and wrote letters for Belle Fontaine.
July 23d. I dispatched an express to the general, with advertisements relative to Kennerman, the soldier who had deserted.[I-15] We embarked after breakfast, and made good progress. Lieutenant Wilkinson steered one boat and I the other, in order to detach all the men on shore, with the Indians, that we could spare. We crossed to the south side, a little below Shepherd river. Dr. Robinson killed a deer, which was the first killed by the party. Distance 13 miles.[I-16]
July 24th. We embarked at half past six o'clock. Very foggy. The Indians accompanied by only three of my people. Lieutenant Wilkinson being a little indisposed, I was obliged to let Baroney steer his boat. We made an excellent day's journey, and encamped [on the south] five miles from [below] the Gasconade river. Killed three deer, one bear, and three turkeys. But three or four of the Indians arrived; the others encamped a small distance below. Distance 18 miles.[I-17]
July 25th. We embarked at half past six o'clock, and arrived at the entrance of the Gasconade river at half past eight o'clock, at which place I determined to remain the day, as my Indians and foot people were yet in the rear, and they had complained to me of being without shoes, leggings, etc. Distance five miles.[I-18]
One of our Pawnees did not arrive until late; the other had communicated his suspicions to me that the Oto, who was in company, had killed him: he acknowledged that he proposed to him to take out their baggage and return to St. Louis. The real occasion of his absence, however, was his having followed a large fresh trace up the Gasconade a considerable distance; but finding it led from the Missouri, he examined it and discovered horses to have been on it; he then left it, joined ours, and came in. This being generally the route taken by the Potowatamies, when they go to war against the Osage, it occasioned some alarm. Every morning we were awakened by the mourning of the savages, who commenced crying about daylight, and continued for the space of an hour. I made inquiry of my interpreter with respect to this, who informed me that this was a custom not only with those who had recently lost their relatives, but also with others who recalled to mind the loss of some friend, dead long since, and joined the other mourners purely from sympathy. They appeared extremely affected; tears ran down their cheeks, and they sobbed bitterly; but in a moment they dry their cheeks and cease their cries. Their songs of grief generally run thus: "My dear father exists no longer; have pity on me, O Great Spirit! you see I cry forever; dry my tears and give me comfort." The warriors' songs are thus: "Our enemies have slain my father (or mother); he is lost to me and his family; I pray to you, O Master of Life! to preserve me until I avenge his death, and then do with me as thou pleaseth."
July 26th. We commenced at five o'clock to ferry the Indians over the Gasconade, and left the entrance of this river at half past six o'clock in the afternoon. Met five Frenchmen, who informed us that they had just left the Osage river, and that it was so low they could not ascend it with their canoe. We wrote letters and sent them back by them.[I-19] Dr. Robinson, Baroney, Sparks, and all the Indians encamped about one league above us. Killed one bear, two deer, one otter, three turkeys, and one raccoon. Distance 15 miles.[I-20]
Sunday, July 27th. We embarked at half past five o'clock, and arrived at the Indians' camp at seven o'clock. They had been alarmed the day before, and in the evening sent men back in the trace, and some of the chiefs sat up all night. Breakfasted with them. About half past three o'clock encamped in sight of the Osage river. There being every appearance of rain, we halted thus early in order to give the Indians time to prepare temporary camps, and to secure our baggage. I went out to hunt, and firing at a deer, near two of the Indians who were in the woods, they knew the difference of the report of my rifle from their guns, were alarmed, and immediately retired to camp. Distance 13 miles.[I-21]
July 28th. Embarked at half past five o'clock, and at half past ten arrived at the Osage[I-22] river, where we stopped, discharged our guns, bathed, etc. We then proceeded on about six miles, where we waited for and crossed the Indians to the west shore; we then proceeded on to the first island, and encamped on the west side, Sans Oreille and only four or five young men coming up, the rest encamping some distance behind. Killed one deer and one turkey. Distance 19 miles.
July 29th. All the [rest of the] Indians arrived very early. Big Soldier, whom I had appointed the officer to regulate the march, was much displeased that Sans Oreille and the others had left him, and said for that reason he would not suffer any woman to go in the boat and by that means separate the party; but in truth it was from jealousy of the men whose women went in the boats. He began by flogging one of the young men and was about to strike Sans Oreille's wife, but was stopped by him and told that he knew he had done wrong, but that the women were innocent. We then crossed them and embarked at half past eight o'clock. About twelve o'clock we found the Indians rafting the river, when the first chief of the Little Osage, called Tuttasuggy, or Wind, told me that the man whom Big Soldier struck had not yet arrived with his wife, "but that he would throw them away." As I knew he was extremely mortified at the dissensions which appeared to reign amongst them, I told him by no means [to do so]; that one of my boats should wait for the woman and her child, but that the man might go to the devil, as a punishment for his insubordination.
I then left Baroney with one boat, and proceeded with the other. We were called ashore by three young Indians, who had killed some deer; and, on putting them on board, gave them about one or two gills of whisky, which intoxicated all of them. It commenced raining about one o'clock, and continued incessantly for three hours, which obliged us to stop and encamp. One of our men, Miller, lost himself, and did not arrive until after dark. Killed five deer, one turkey, and one raccoon. Distance 14 miles.[I-23]
