Nov. 11th. In passing two miles, we crossed a small stream running south-east, which evidently had its source in the little lake at our last night's encampment. The trail beyond this was often faint; in the course of eight or ten miles, we began to ascend elevations covered with pines, but of so sterile and hard a soil, that we lost all trace of it. We wound about among these desolate pine ridges a mile or two, till, from one of the higher points, we descried a river in a deep valley, having a dense forest of hard wood, and every indication of animal life. Overjoyed at this, we mended our pace, and, by dint of great caution, led our pack-horse into it. It proved to be the river Currents, a fine stream, with fertile banks, and clear sparkling waters. The grey-squirrel was seen sporting on its shady margin, and, as night approached, the wild turkey came in from the plains to drink, and make its nightly abode. After fording the river, we soon found our lost trail, which we followed a while up the stream, then across a high ridge which constituted its southern banks, and through dense thickets to the summits of a narrow, deep, and dark limestone valley, which appeared to be an abyss. Daylight left us as we wound down a gorge into its dreary precincts; and we no sooner found it traversed by a clear brook, than we determined to encamp. As the fire flashed up, it revealed on either side steep and frowning cliffs, which might gratify the wildest spirit of romance. This stream, with its impending cavernous cliffs, I designated the Wall-cave or Onónda valley.
We had advanced this day about eighteen or twenty miles. We had an opportunity, while on the skirts of the high prairie lands, to fire at some elk, and to observe their stately motions; but, being still supplied with venison, we were not willing to waste the time in pursuing them. Our course varied from south to south-west.
Nov. 12th. Daylight fully revealed our position. We were in a valley, often not more than six hundred feet wide, with walls of high precipitous limestone rock. These cliffs were remarkable for nothing so much as their caverns, seated uniformly at a height of forty or fifty feet above the ground, in inaccessible positions. I do not know the number of these caves, as we did not count them; but they existed on either side of the valley as far as we explored it. Most of them were too high to reach. A tree had fallen against the cliff near one of them, by climbing which I reached a small ledge of the rock that afforded a little footing, and, by cautiously groping along, the orifice was finally reached and entered. It proved interesting, although of no great extent; but it contained stalactites depending in clusters from the walls. Of these, I secured a number which were translucent. Slender crystals of nitrate of potash, of perfect whiteness and crystalline beauty, were found in some of the crevices. Having secured specimens of these, I again got out on the ledge of rock, and, reaching the tree, descended in safety.
About half a mile higher up the valley, on its south side, we discovered a cavern of gigantic dimensions. The opening in the face of the rock appeared to be about eighty or ninety feet wide, and about thirty high. A projection of rock on one side enabled us to enter it. A vast and gloomy rotundo opened before us. It very soon, after the entry, increases in height to sixty or seventy feet, and in width to one hundred and fifty or two hundred feet, forming an immense hall. This hall has another opening or corridor, leading to a precipitous part of the cliff. It extends into the rock, southerly, an unexplored distance, branching off in lateral avenues from the main trunk. We explored the main gallery five or six hundred yards, when we found obstructions. The roof has been blackened by the carbonaceous effect of fires, kindled by Indians or white men, who have visited it, in former years, in search of nitrous earth. In some parts of it, compact bodies of pebbles and reddish clay, very similar to that found on the cliffs, are seen, which creates an idea that the cavern must have been an open orifice at the geological era of the diluvial deposits. This earth, by being lixiviated with common house-ashes, produces a liquid which, on evaporation, yields saltpetre. The cave, I was informed at Potosi, has been visited for this purpose by Colonel Ashley, and it appropriately bears his name. Finding it a perfect "rock-house," and being dry, and affording advantages for some necessary repairs to our gear, and arrangements for the further continuation of our explorations, we, about four o'clock in the afternoon, removed our camp up the valley, and encamped within it. We could shelter ourselves completely in its capacious chambers in case of rain, of which there were indications, and take a calm view of the course it seemed now expedient to pursue. Thus far, we had had a trail, however slight, to follow; but from this point there was none—we were to plunge into the pathless woods, and to trust ourselves alone to the compass, and the best judgment we could form of courses, distances, and probabilities. A wilderness lay before us, behind us, and around us. We had "taken our lives in our hands," and we were well satisfied that our success must depend on our vigilance, energy, and determination. In addition to the exertion of providing food, and repairing our clothing, which, as we urged our way, was paying tribute to every sharp bush we pressed through, we had to exercise a constant vigilance to prevent Indian surprises; for experience had already taught us that, in the wilderness, where there is no law to impose restraint but the moral law of the heart, man is the greatest enemy of man.
Nov. 13th. The threatening appearance of the atmosphere induced us to remain most of the day in our rock-house, which was devoted to devising a more safe and compact mode of carrying specimens, to repairs of our pack-saddles, a reconstruction of the mode of packing, &c. We then made a further reconnoissance of the cavern, and its vicinity and productions. I had paid particular attention to the subject of the occurrence of animal bones in our western caves, as those of Europe had recently excited attention; but never found any, in a single instance, except the species of existing weasels, and other very small quadrupeds, which are to be traced about these castellated and cavernous cliffs. As evening approached, a flock of turkeys, coming in from the plain to the top of the cliff above the cavern, flew down on to the trees directly in front of us, sheltered as we were from their sight, and afforded a fine opportunity for the exercise of our sportsmanship.
Nov. 14th. The rain which had threatened to fall yesterday, poured down this morning, and continued with more or less violence all day. Our packages, clothing, arms and accoutrements, were thoroughly overhauled and examined. We had still supplies of everything essential to our comfort. Our bacon had not been seriously trenched on, while the forest had amply supplied us with venison, and our groceries bade fair to last us till we should strike some of the main southern streams, or till our increasing powers of endurance and forest skill should enable us to do without them.
Nov. 15th. This morning, the sky being clear and bright, we left our rock abode in the Wall-cave valley. We ascended this valley a short distance, but, as it led us too far west, and the brush proved so thick as to retard our progress, we soon left it. With some ado, the horse was led to the top of the cliff. A number of lateral valleys, covered with thick brush, made this a labor by no means light. The surface of the ground was rough, vegetation sere and dry, and every thicket which spread before us presented an obstacle which was to be overcome. We could have penetrated many of these, which the horse could not be forced through. Such parts of our clothing as did not consist of buckskin, paid frequent tribute to these brambles.
At length we got clear of these spurs, and entered on a high table-land, where travelling became comparatively easy. The first view of this vista of highland plains was magnificent. It was covered with moderate-sized sere grass and dry seed-pods, which rustled as we passed. There was scarcely an object deserving the name of a tree, except now and then a solitary trunk of a dead pine or oak, which had been scathed by the lightning. The bleached bones of an elk, a deer, or a bison, were sometimes met. Occasionally we passed a copse of oak, or cluster of saplings. The deer often bounded before us, and we sometimes disturbed the hare from its sheltering bush, or put to flight the quail and the prairie-hen. There was no prominent feature in the distance for the eye to rest on. The unvaried prospect at length produced satiety. We felt, in a peculiar manner, the solitariness of the wilderness. We travelled silently and diligently. It was a dry and wave-like prairie. From morning till sunset, we did not encounter a drop of water. This became the absorbing object. Hill after hill, and vale after vale, were patiently ascended, and diligently footed, without bringing the expected boon. At last we came, suddenly and unexpectedly, to a small running