They had been three days' journey further down the river than Mr.Hunt, always keeping as near to its banks as possible, and frequently climbing over sharp and rocky ridges that projected into the stream.

At length they had arrived to where the mountains increased in height, and came closer to the river, with perpendicular precipices, which rendered it impossible to keep along the stream.

The river here rushed with incredible velocity through a defile not more than thirty yards wide, where cascades and rapids succeeded each other almost without intermission.

Even had the opposite banks, therefore, been such as to permit a continuance of their journey, it would have been madness to attempt to pass the tumultuous current either on rafts or otherwise.
Still bent, however, on pushing forward, they attempted to climb the opposing mountains; and struggled on through the snow for half a day until, coming to where they could command a prospect, they found that they were not half way to the summit, and that mountain upon mountain lay piled beyond them, in wintry desolation.

Famished and emaciated as they were, to continue forward would be to perish; their only chance seemed to be to regain the river, and retrace their steps up its banks.
It was in this forlorn and retrograde march that they had met Mr.Hunt and his party.
Mr.Crooks also gave information of some others of their fellow adventurers.