At
the end of the next summer, returning to Fort Vancouver after the
setting in of the winter rains, bearing in mind the big pine he had
heard of, he set out on an excursion up the Willamette Valley in search
of it; and how he fared, and what dangers and hardships he endured, are
best told in his own journal, from which I quote as follows:
_October_ 26, 1826. Weather dull. Cold and cloudy. When my
friends in England are made acquainted with my travels I fear they
will think I have told them nothing but my miseries.... I quitted
my camp early in the morning to survey the neighboring country,
leaving my guide to take charge of the horses until my return in
the evening. About an hour's walk from the camp I met an Indian,
who on perceiving me instantly strung his bow, placed on his left
arm a sleeve of raccoon skin and stood on the defensive. Being
quite sure that conduct was prompted by fear and not by hostile
intentions, the poor fellow having probably never seen such a being
as myself before, I laid my gun at my feet on the ground and waved
my hand for him to come to me, which he did slowly and with great
caution.
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