At Pine River we went inland about a mile to see an old mine, probably
the remains of French enterprise, or French credulity. But all its
golden ores had flown, probably frightened off by the old fellow of
_L'diable au Port_. We saw only pits dug in the sand overgrown
with trees.
Near this spot in the river, we overtook Shingabowossin and his party
of Chippewas. They had left the prairie on the same day that we did, but
earlier. They had been in some dread of the Winnebagoes, and stopped on
the island to wait for us.
In passing the channel of _Detour_, we observed many thousand tons of
white rock lying in the river, which had lately fallen from the bank,
leaving a solid perpendicular precipice. This rock, banks and ruins, is,
like all the Wisconsin Valley rocks, a very white and fine sandstone.
We passed five canoes of Menomonies, on their way to hunt on Chippewa
River, to whom I presented some powder, lead, and flour. They gave me a
couple of fish, of the kind called _pe-can-o_ by the Indians.
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