Continued our march over a mountainous country, the most rough I ever
saw. From some of the elevations we could see the trail for miles,
dotted with men, horses and, more distinctly, the white-covered wagons.
We passed numerous small streams, flowing from the mountains. After
going about seventeen miles, we reached Ham's Fork of Green River, and
encamped four miles beyond it on the open prairie, where we found good
grass, and water we had in store. The day has been pleasant, more so
than any we have had since we left the Sweet Water. This morning I had a
fine view of the Bear River Mountains, about seventy-five miles
distance, stretching around the sky from the south to the southwest.
Their summits are covered with spotless snow. At Ham's Fork I saw
another party of the Snake River Indians. Most of them looked very
squalid and miserable, and beg provisions of all they can. They are less
prepossessing than the Sioux, though they are well supplied with guns
and horses. They are good horsemen and use their sharp-pointed arrows
with the certainty of a bullet. The mosquitoes began to trouble us today
for the first time. We expect they will lay a long siege to our blood.
Distance, twenty-one miles.