took a narrow path that led us by mountains, valleys, forests and prairies, following the course of the river Skarameep. Toward evening we were on the borders of a deep impetuous torrent, having no other bridge than a tree which was rather slight and in constant motion from the rushing of the waters. It reminded me of the bridge of souls spoken of in the Potawatomi legends. These savages believe that souls must traverse this bridge before they reach their elysium in the west. The good, they say, pass over it without danger; the bad, on the contrary, are unable to hold on, but stumble, stagger and fall into the torrent below, which sweeps them off into a labyrinth of lakes and marshes; here they drag out their existence; wretched, tormented by famine and in great agony, the living prey of all sorts of venomous reptiles and ferocious animals, wandering to and fro without ever being able to
escape. We were fortunate enough to cross the trembling bridge without accident. We soon pitched our camp on the other side, and in spite of the warring waves which in falls and cascades thundered all night by our side, we enjoyed a refreshing sleep. The greater part of the next clay the path conducted us through a thick and hilly forest of fir trees; the country then became more undulating and open. From time to time we Percéived an Indian burialground, remarkable only for the posts erected on the graves, and hung with kettles, wooden plates, guns, bows and arrows, left there by the nearest relatives of the deceased - humble tokens of their grief and friendship.
We encamped on the shore of a small lake called the Skarameep,'- where was a Skoyelpi village; I gave these savages several instructions and baptized their infants. In memory of my visit, they gave the name of Leeeyou Pierre
4 There is a small lake called Karamip on the map in this part of Washington. Father De Smet's movements would seem to point to Kettle lake and river, but the native name for the latter is given as Ne-poi-al-pit-kwu.