Clark: May 10, 1806

Saturday 10th of May 1806. This morning the snow continued falling until half past 6 A.M., when it ceased. The air was keen and cold, the snow 8 inches deep on the plain. We collected our horses and, after taking a scanty breakfast of roots, we set out for the village of the chief with a flag, and proceeded on through an open plain. The road was slippery and the snow clogged and caused the horses to trip very frequently. The mud at the heads of the streams which we passed was deep and well supplied with the cous (camas) plant. Drewyer turned off the road to hunt near the river to our left and did not join us today. At 4 P.M. we arrived at the village of Tin-nach-e-moo-toolt, the chief with whom we had left a flag. This flag was hoisted on a pole, and under the flag the chief met me and conducted me to a spot near a small run about 80 paces from his lodges, where he requested me to halt, which I did. Soon after, Capt Lewis (Capt. Lewis), who was in the rear, came up, and we smoked with this chief and told him our situation in respect to provisions. They brought forward about 2 bushels of quamash (camas), 4 cakes of bread made of roots, and a dried fish. We informed the chief that our party was not accustomed to eat roots without flesh, and proposed to exchange some of our old horses for young ones to eat. They said that they would not exchange horses, but would furnish us with such as we wished, and produced 2, one of which we killed, and informed them that we did not wish to kill the other at this time. We gave medals to the Broken Arm, or Tin-nach-e-moo-toolt, and Hoh-halt-ill-pitp, two principal chiefs of the Chopunnish Nation, and were informed that there was one other great chief (in all 4) who had but one eye. He would be here tomorrow. A large lodge of leather was pitched, and Capt. Lewis and myself were invited into it. We entered, and the chief and principal men came into the lodge and formed a circle. A parcel of wood was collected and laid at the door, and a fire made in this conic lodge before we entered it. The chief requested that we might make the lodge our home while we remained with him. Here, after we had taken a repast on roots and horse beef, we resumed our council with the Indians, which together with smoking took up the balance of the evening. I was surprised to find, descending the hill to Commearp Creek, that there had been no snow in the bottoms of that stream. It seems that the snow melted in falling and descended here in rain while it snowed in the plain. The hills are about eight hundred feet high; about a quarter of that distance the snow had descended and still lay on the sides of the hill. As these people had been liberal, I directed the men not to crowd their lodge in search of food, in the manner hunger has compelled them to do at most lodges we have passed, and which the Twisted Hair had informed us was disagreeable to the natives. But their previous want of hospitality had induced us to consult their inclinations but little and suffer our men to obtain provisions from them on the best terms they could.

The village of the Broken Arm consists of one house or lodge only, which is 150 feet in length, built in the usual form of sticks, mats, and dry grass. It contains 24 fires and about double that number of families. From appearances I presume they could raise 100 fighting men. The noise of their women pounding the cous roots reminds me of a nail factory. The Indians appear well pleased, and I am confident that they are not more so than our men, who have their stomachs once more well filled with horse beef and the bread of cous. These people have shown much greater acts of hospitality than we have witnessed from any nation or tribe since we have passed the Rocky Mountains. In short, be it spoken to their immortal honor, it is the only act which deserves the appellation of hospitality which we have witnessed in this quarter.