There are some forty principal mines, in an area of about seventy miles by thirty or forty in breadth. The chief ore of lead smelted is galena. The associated minerals of most prominence are sulphate of barytes, sulphuret of zinc, calcareous spar, and crystallized quartz, chiefly in radiated crystals. I spent upwards of three months in a survey of the mines of chief consequence, noting their peculiarities and geological features. By far the most remarkable feature in the general structure of the country, consists of the existence of a granitical tract at the sources of the river St. Francis. This I particularly examined. The principal elevations consist of red sienite and greenstone, lying in their usual forms of mountain masses. The geological upheavals which have brought these masses to their present elevations, appear to have been of the most ancient character; for the limestones and crystalline sandstones have been deposited, in perfectly horizontal beds, against their sides.
Feeling a desire to compare this formation with the structure of the country west and south of it, extending to the Rocky mountains, and satisfied at the same time that these primary peaks constituted the mineral region of De Soto's most northerly explorations, I determined to extend my explorations south-westwardly. The term "Ozark mountains" is popularly applied to the broad and elevated highlands which stretch in this direction, reaching from the Maramec to the Arkansas. Having obtained the best information accessible from hunters and others who had gone farthest in that direction, I determined to proceed, as early as I could complete my arrangements for that purpose, to explore those elevations.
Colonel W. H. Ashley, who had penetrated into this region, together with several enterprising hunters and woodsmen, represented it as metalliferous, and abounding in scenes of varied interest. It had been the ancient hunting-ground of the Osages, a wild and predatory tribe, who yet infested its fastnesses; and it was represented as subject to severe risks from this cause. Two or three of the woodsmen, who were best acquainted with this tract, expressed a willingness to accompany me on a tour of exploration. I therefore, in the month of October, revisited St. Louis and Illinois, for the purpose of making final arrangements for the tour, and obtained the consent of Mr. Brigham and Mr. Pettibone, previously mentioned, to accompany me. A day was appointed for our assembling at Potosi. I then returned to complete my arrangements. I purchased a stout, low-priced horse, to carry such supplies as were requisite, made his pack-saddle with my own hands, and had it properly riveted by a smith. A pair of blankets for sleeping; a small, short-handled frying-pan; a new axe, a tin coffeepot, three tin cups, and the same number of tin plates; a couple of hunting-knives; a supply of lead, shot, ball, powder, and flints; a small smith's hammer, and nails for setting a horse-shoe; a horse-bell and strap; a pocket compass; a gun, shot-pouch, and appendages, containing a space for my diary; a mineral-hammer, constructed under my own directions, so as to embrace a small mortar on one face, and capable of unscrewing at the handle, which could be used as a pestle; a supply of stout clothing, a bearskin and oilcloth, some bacon, tea, sugar, salt, hard bread, &c., constituted the chief articles of outfit. The man of whom I purchased the horse called him by the unpoetic name of "Butcher."
It was the beginning of November before my friends arrived, and on the sixth of that month we packed the horse, and took our way over the mineral hills that surround Potosi, making our first encampment in a little valley, on the margin of a stream called Bates's creek.
It was fine autumn weather; the leaves of the forest were mostly sere, and the winds scattered them about us with an agreeable movement, as we wound among the hills. We were evidently following an old Indian trail, and, finding a rather tenable old wigwam, constructed of poles and bark, we pitched upon it as our first place of encampment. My kind host from Kentucky, with whom I had been staying, accompanied us thus far, to see us safely in the woods, and taught me the art of hobbling a horse, and tying on his night-bell. The hunters, who had talked rather vaingloriously of their prowess among wild animals and Osages, one by one found obstacles to impede their going. Finally, one of my companions was compelled to return, owing to a continued attack of fever and ague. I determined, nevertheless, to proceed, thinking that a hunter could be found to join us before quitting the verge of civilization. Having unpacked Butcher, prepared him for the night, stowed away the baggage, and built a fire, I took my gun and sallied out into the forest, while my companion prepared things for our supper. I found the greatest abundance of large black and grey squirrels in a neighboring wood, and returned with a number of the finest of them in season to add to our evening's meal.
A man's first night in the wilderness is impressive. Our friends had left us, and returned to Potosi. Gradually all sounds of animated nature ceased. When darkness closed around us, the civilized world seemed to have drawn its curtains, and excluded us. We put fresh sticks on the fire, which threw a rich flash of light on our camp, and finally wrapped ourselves in our blankets, and, amidst ruminations on the peculiarities of our position, our hopes, and our dangers, we sank to sleep.
Nov. 7th. The first thing listened for this morning was the tinkle of our horse's bell. But Butcher was gone. All my precautions had been in vain. The poor beast appeared to have had a presentiment of the hard fare that was before him, and, although his fore-feet were tethered, and he must lift up both together to jump, yet, having a strong recollection of the corn-fodder and juicy blades left behind him, he had made his way back to the mines. I immediately went in pursuit of him. He was easily tracked until he got to a space of rank herbage, where I lost the track, and hearing, at the same moment, a bell to the left, I pursued the sound over hill and through dale, till I came out at a farm-yard on Mine creek, four miles below Potosi, where I found the bell whose sound I had followed attached to the neck of a stately penned ox. The owner told me that Butcher had reached the mines, and been sent back to my camp by his former owner. I had nothing left but to retrace my steps, which, luckily, were but the shorter line of an acute triangle. I found him at the camp. It was, however, ten o'clock before our breakfast was despatched, and the horse repacked ready for starting. We took the labor of leading the horse, and carrying the compass and guiding, day about, so as to equalize these duties, and leave no cause for dissatisfaction. Our trail carried us across the succession of elevated and arid ridges called the Pinery. Not a habitation of any kind, nor the vestiges of one, was passed; neither did we observe any animal, or even bird. The soil was sterile, hard, and flinty, bearing yellow pines, with some oaks. Our general course was west-south-west. The day was mild and pleasant for the season. For a computed distance of fourteen miles, we encountered a succession of ascents and descents, which made us rejoice, as evening approached, to see a tilled valley before us. It proved to be the location of a small branch of the Maramec river, called by its original French name of Fourche â Courtois. The sun sank below the hills as we entered this valley. Some woodcock flew up as we reached the low ground; but as we had a cabin in view, and the day was far gone, we moved on toward our principal object. Presently the loud barking of dogs announced our approach; they seemed, by their clamor, as pertinacious as if two wolves or panthers were stealing on the tenement, till they were silenced by the loud commands of their master. It was a small log building, of the usual construction on the frontiers, and afforded the usual hospitality, and ready accommodations. They gave us warm cakes of corn-bread, and fine rich milk; and, spreading our blankets before the fire, we enjoyed sound slumbers. Butcher, here, had his last meal of corn, and made no attempt to escape.
Nov. 8th. With the earliest streaks of daylight we adjusted our pack for the horse, and again set forward on the trail. In the course of two miles' travel, we forded a stream called Law's Fork, and also the branch of the Maramec on which we had lodged the previous night. We soon after descried a hunter's cabin, a small and newly erected hut in the midst of the forest, occupied by a man named Alexander Roberts. This proved the last house we encountered, and was estimated to be twenty miles from Potosi. Some trees had been felled and laid around, partially burned; but not a spot of ground was in cultivation. Dogs, lean and hungry, heralded our approach, as in the former instance; and they barked loud and long. On reaching the cabin, we found that the man was not at home, having left it, his wife said, with his rifle, at an early hour, in search of game. She thought he would be back before noon, and that he would accompany us. We decided to await his return, and in the meanwhile prepared our frugal breakfast. In a short time, Roberts returned; he was a chunky, sinister-looking fellow, and reminded me of Ali Baba, in the "Forty Thieves." He had a short, greasy buckskin frock, and a pointed old hat. His wife, who peeped out