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The gloomy reality of this situation may be thus briefly summed up; We were fast aground in the middle of a river, three-fourths of a mile from either shore, confined to the narrow limits of a few feet, exposed to the merciless peltings of a chill storm of rain and sleet, with only a thin lodge skin to shelter us, without fire

to warm or dry ourselves by, and, worse than all, destitute of the means of appeasing the gnawings of hunger.

But, forbidding as the picture may seem, it proved only the commencement of a long series of suffering and deprivation, more intensely dreadful in its nature, that was yet held in reserve for us.

On the forenoon of the fourth day the storm abated, and, favored with a slight rise of water, by dint of extraordinary effort we finally succeeded in getting afloat, and gained the right shore after pulling our craft over sandbars for a distance of two miles.

All hands now turned out in search of game, one of whom returned, towards night with an antelope, providing us with a needful supply of food for the time being.

The next day, forcing our craft onward for six or eight miles, we brought to upon the left shore, where, after a short excursion among the hills, two other antelope were brought in, which furnished us with a further supply of provisions.

The day following we continued our voyage till towards noon, when a high wind compelled us again to lay by under the lee of a small island.

Here, towards night, having spread our robes near the camp fire, while all hands were busy at the boat, a sudden gust of wind bore the sparks among the dry grass, and in an instant the whole island was one sheet of flame! robes, blankets, and all, were almost entirely destroyed, notwithstanding our prompt efforts to save them.

Continuing on, the next morning we forced our boat, or rather carried it, down stream for about fifteen miles, —wading the river for nearly the whole distance.

Our mode of voyaging was pretty much the same, each day of its continuance. Sailing was out of the question.

Not unfrequently we were obliged to unload five or six times in the course of a few hours, in order to lift the boat over high sand-bars, carrying its cargo upon our backs through the water a half-mile or more, to some dry place of deposit for the mean time; then returning it in the like tiresome manner, —now in water up to our arm-pits, —then scarcely enough to cover the sand of the river bed.

As for a channel there was none, or rather, there were so many we were at a continual loss which to choose.

Now, gliding along merrily for a mile or two, we are brought to a halt by the water scattering over a broad bed, and find ourselves snugly "pocketed," with no other means of extrication than by backing out; then, wading against a swift current, we retrace our steps for a like distance, and try another chute, perhaps with no

better success; —then, again, conveying our landing to the nearest point of land, by means of hand-spikes and levers (requiring an exercise of the utmost strength,) we force our