them to go into camp on the Cottonwood, and await further commands.
"He sent out his best scouts in the search. Myself, guide, and one of the scouts passed up the banks of the Arkansas for one hundred miles, knowing if Whitman was alive he would make for the river. Every night our camp would be surrounded by hungry, gaunt, gray wolves, which as they were shot down would be torn in pieces and devoured by their fellows."
This gave them great uneasiness about Whitman, alone and without a shelter. They encountered some Indians who told them they had met a white man two days before who was hunting for Bent's Fort, and they had pointed out the way to him. They, in all haste, retraced their steps, along the way the Indians directed, and in an hour after they reached the fort Whitman came in greatly fatigued, and well-nigh despairing. But wearied as he was, he was deeply touched with Colonel Bent's kindness and thoughtfulness, and was buoyed up with new heart and hope that after all the hardships of the long journey he was yet able to prosecute it to the end. In the early morning he was in the saddle upon a fresh horse, with a good guide, and ready to ride forty miles before night to the camp on the Cottonwood, with credentials which would give them safe convoy to St. Louis. General Lovejoy, the guide, and all the stock remained until the next convoy was sent out in the spring,
