Thus refreshed, I went on ten miles, which brought me to the banks of Little Black river. Two miles beyond this stream, I stopped at the house of a Mr. Reeves, at an early hour in the afternoon, my ankle giving indications of returning lameness. Quiet, and a night's repose, had the effect to relieve these symptoms, and I was enabled cautiously to continue my journey the next day. Daylight was ever my signal for rising, and, by easy stages, I made seventeen miles during the day, walking early and late. The first six miles of this distance were made before I stopped for breakfast, and the next ten miles brought me to the ferry over Big Black river--a clear, rapid stream, which, in its progress to the south, is the recipient of all the before-mentioned streams, from the Strawberry river, north; and is itself, finally, a tributary of White river, maintaining through it a free navigation with the Mississippi. After crossing the ferry, I went about half a mile further, and took up my night's lodgings at a Mr. Bollinger's. I felt no further weakness of my foot and ankle, and was happy in the reflection that my cautious movements had been such as not to overtax the strength of my nerves. Indeed, from this point, (till 1830,) I experienced no further symptoms of lameness.
On the next morning (28th), I walked seven miles, and took breakfast at a Mr. Esty's, where I fell in with the old road, which had originally been laid, when the country came to be settled, on the ancient Indian path. The elevated lands between Black river and the St. Francis, had evidently been the line of march of De Soto, when (in 1541) he set forward from "Quiguate," on the St. Francis, toward the "north-west," in search of Coligoa. Any other course between west and south-west, would have involved his army in the lagoons, and deep and wide channel, of Black river, which forms a barrier for about one hundred and fifty miles toward the south; while this dividing ground, between the Black river and St. Francis, consists chiefly of dry pine lands and open uplands, offering every facility for the movements of his cavalry, which were ever the dread of the Indians.
The first Indian village which De Soto reached, after crossing the Mississippi--probably at the ancient Indian crossing-place at the lower Chickasaw bluffs--and pushing on through the low grounds, was on reaching the elevations of the St. Francis, immediately west of his point of landing. The place was called Casquin, or Casqui; a name which will be recognized as bearing a resemblance to one of the Illinois tribes, who have long been known under the name of Kaskaskias. From this place on the high lands of the St. Francis, he ascended that river, keeping the same side of its current, through a fine country, abounding in the pecan and mulberry, a distance of seven leagues, to the central position of the Casquins. Here it was, and not on the immediate banks of the Mississippi, that he erected a gigantic cross, formed out of a pine tree, which, after it was hewn, a hundred men could not lift.