The Tacoma times. [volume] (Tacoma, Wash.) 1903-1949, 1939-07-25

river camp.
Surely, the mosquitoes would be
catching a little shut-eye by now.
But. 10 and behold The hardy
revelers were still making merry
and welcomed US warmly.
This was no place for us. Swat
ting at the mosquitoes with one
hand. we packed the canoe with
the other and showed off. Getting
out into midstream we were FL
nally clear of them. 30 Louise
turned around to the grub box IN
back of her and unearthed some
canned heat. the bracket to hold
1t, and set on some coffee to boil.
In no time at all breakfast was
ready-oranges. coffee and pecan
rolls-enjoyed in comfort.
Pass Indian Agency
As we ate and drifted. we
rounded bend and came upon the
lovely little town Of the Cheyenne
Indian agency. This was the place
we were searching for last night,
and to think it was such a short
distance from our landing. Mod
ern brick homes, beautifully land
scaped. were built almost at the
waters edge, trees lined the ave
nues. and the huge brick agency
buildings topped the slight rise.
It seemed to say Welcome" in
cool, delightful way, and we
could have kicked ourselves for
not coming on further the night
before. But how were we TO Know
that this place was really on the
river when so many of the river
towns are mott
Not having anything To stop for
at the present time, we drifted
past.
Territory Depressing
Breakfast completed, the dishes
were done" in the Missouri and
then we settled down TO put a
few miles behind up. Pierre was
% miles downriver and II we could
cover half that distance today, or
more. that would get us to Pierre
by Monday.
Although we kept up the steady
rythm we always employed, the
miles seemed to be longer than
usual, and time Jagged. Al first
we couldn't understand II. We
both felt depressed. We tried play
ing the radio, but that didn't help.
And then we realized.
II was the South Dakota terrain.
Never have we passed through |
such desolate wastes. Bleak,
drowned hills rose from the river.
Nothing but weeds grew on them,
and here and there gumbo hills
would loom. absolutely devoid OF
any vegetation.
Put In for Lunch
The bottomlands were narrow
and dry. not the lush, almost trop-
ical bottomlands we had seen fur
Their up the river. The hot sun,
beating down on those already
parched hills. seemed to create an
oven-like channel through winch
we passed. Heat waves could be
seen shimmering on the sand bars
and even off the river.
It was almost unbearable. But
bear it we did, oozing as we pro-
crossed.
When lunchtime came, the crew
was in favor of putting ashore
under some cottonwood and pre-
pairing lunch, and the captain con-
CURED. Finally sighting one lone
tree that grew close TO the water,
we put In. to find the spot already
occupied by a fisherman and his
son.
Catching Catfish
But they were very cordial and
offered US some Of the shade and
even gave US loaf Of bresd-but
no fish. He was a commercial
fisherman, selling his catch for 80
cents a pound. dressed, IN the city.
What city. he didn't say, but he
did mention that he had to drive
81 miles. He was using grasshop-
pers for bait for the catfish.
We fingered in the shade Of the
old cottonwood tree for about an
hour and a half making a small
fire and roasting some potatoes
and boiling some eggs. II was
cool there and we hated 70 shove
off again. but Pierre was calling.
PROCTOR ~
lana. Iaaa Crawford