October 1st, 1804. The weather was very cold and the wind high from the
southeast during the night, and continued so this morning. At three
miles distance, we had passed a large island in the middle of the river,
opposite to the lower end of which the Ricaras once had a village on the
south side of the river: there are, however, no remnants of it now,
except a circular wall three or four feet in height, which encompassed
the town. Two miles beyond this island is a river coming in from the
southwest, about four hundred yards wide; the current gentle, and
discharging not much water, and very little sand: it takes its rise in
the second range of the Cote Noire or Black mountains, and its general
course is nearly east; this river has been occasionally called Dog
river, under a mistaken opinion that its French name was Chien, but its
true appellation is Chayenne, and it derives this title from the
Chayenne Indians: their history is the short and melancholy relation of
the calamities of almost all the Indians. They were a numerous people
and lived on the Chayenne, a branch of the Red river of Lake Winnipeg.
The invasion of the Sioux drove them westward; in their progress they
halted on the southern side of the Missouri below the Warreconne, where
their ancient fortifications still exist; but the same impulse again
drove them to the heads of the Chayenne, where they now rove, and
occasionally visit the Ricaras. They are now reduced, but still number
three hundred men.

Although the river did not seem to throw out much sand, yet near and
above its mouth we find a great many sandbars difficult to pass. On both
sides of the Missouri, near the Chayenne, are rich thinly timbered
lowlands, behind which are bare hills. As we proceeded, we found that
the sandbars made the river so shallow, and the wind was so high, that
we could scarcely find the channel, and at one place were forced to drag
the boat over a sandbar, the Missouri being very wide and falling a
little. At seven and a half miles we came to at a point, and remained
three hours, during which time the wind abated: we then passed within
four miles two creeks on the south, one of which we called Centinel
creek, and the other Lookout creek. This part of the river has but
little timber; the hills are not so high as we have hitherto seen, and
the number of sandbars extends the river to more than a mile in breadth.
We continued about four and a half miles further, to a sandbar in