Nearly opposite, but a little below this cabin, we passed, on the 12th, the mouth of the Little North Fork; a stream originating in a broken region on the left bank, and having some alluvions at its mouth. Evidences of habitation became more frequent below the Little North Fork, which caused me to cease noting their succession in my journal.
Nothing of special interest occurred to mark the day's progress, till we reached, at an advanced hour in the afternoon, the Bull shoals. At this formidable rapid, the river probably sinks its level fifteen or twenty feet in the space of half a mile. Masses of limestone rock stand up in the bed of the river, and create several channels. Between these the river foams and roars. When I arose in the canoe to take a view of the rapid into which we were about to plunge, the bed of the stream appeared to be a perfect sheet of foam, whirling and rushing with great force and tumult. As I knew not the proper channel, and it was too late to withdraw, the only step left was to keep the canoe headed, and down we went most rapidly. Very soon the canoe leaped on a round rock, driving on it with great force, and veered about crosswise. In an instant I jumped into the water at the bows, while my companion did the same at the stern, and, by main force, we lifted it over the ledge, got in quickly, and again headed it properly. We were, emphatically, in the midst of roaring rapids; their very noise was deafening. The canoe had probably got down six hundred yards, when a similar difficulty occurred, at the head of a second shute or bench of rocks, reaching across the river. In an instant, it again struck. It was obviated by getting into the water, in the same way as on the first occasion; only, however, to put our strength and skill to the test a third time, after which we shot down to the foot of the rapids safely. We had managed neither to ship water, nor to lose a piece of baggage. We were, however, thoroughly wetted, but kept our position in the canoe for five miles below the rapid, bringing us to the head of Friend's settlement. We landed, at a rather early hour in the evening, at a log building on the left shore, where we were hospitably received by Teen Friend, a man of mature age and stately air, the patriarch of the settlement. It was of him that we had heard stories of Osage captivity and cruelty, having visited one of the very valleys where he was kept in "durance vile."