Mr.Crooks now hoped that these might be the men of his party, who, disheartened by perils and hardships, had preferred to remain among the Indians.

Others thought they might be Mr.Miller and the hunters who had left the main body at Henry's Fort, to trap among the mountain streams.

Mr.Stuart halted, therefore, in the neighborhood of the Shoshonie lodges, and sent an Indian across the river to seek out the white men in question, and bring them to his camp.
The travellers passed a restless, miserable night.

The place swarmed with myriads of mosquitoes, which, with their stings and their music, set all sleep at defiance.

The morning dawn found them in a feverish, irritable mood, and their spleen was completely aroused by the return of the Indian without any intelligence of the white men.