wagons inside the circle until morning, when they were again put out to graze.

After two days travel from the Missouri river we reached the Elkhorn, at that time a wide, turbulent stream overflowing its banks, occasioned by the heavy spring rains. Our only means of crossing was to stretch a rope from bank to bank and use our wagon beds for boats to transport our effects. This means of crossing streams we had anticipated from the start, and had our wagon beds made water tight, with the necessary amount of rope for all emergencies. We camped on the east bank of the stream and received a friendly visit from some of our Pawnee brothers and sisters, who were being "civilized" and "Christianized" at a near-by mission. They were in their native costume of red blankets, buckskin breeches and moccasins, and spoke but little English. We distributed some presents among them, for which they seemed much pleased. They had not yet learned to swear as a friendly salutation at meeting and parting, as had the natives further up on the Platte, who had caught it from the ox and mule drivers. With a friendly shake of the hand it would be, "Whoa, haw, G— d— you; haw, gee."

After our breakfast that morning, which as usual consisted of coffee, pancakes and bacon, we had our first experience in crossing a large stream relying on our own resources. Our train consisted of twenty wagons, with an average of three men and the same number of horses to each wagon. A young man, one of our best swimmers, was detailed to take a small cord in his teeth made fast to a strong rope and swim to the opposite side. Fortunately either bank at that

time was fringed with trees, to one of which the rope was attached, and by the use of our wagon beds for our effects, and swimming our stock, we crossed without accident or loss. From here we commenced our long journey up the north bank of the Platte. The Loup fork and other tributaries being difficult to ford on account of the treacherous quicksand bottoms, compelled us to go several miles out of our course to find safe crossings. The distance from the Missouri to Fort Laramie, the first government post, was 700 miles; to the South Pass of the Rocky Mountains, 1000. Indians were occasionally seen, but proved friendly. Five days out from the Elkhorn we were joined by a chief, who presented to our captain a "recommend" written by some trader or immigrant, stating that he was a good Indian, and if anything was stolen he would recover and return it.

In some cases the "recommend" would read: "This is a bad Indian; he will steal anything he can lay his hands on. Look out for him" Of course he was never the wiser for what it contained. This particular chief wore a discarded black coat and a tall, battered, plug hat, relics, no doubt, of a dead or "busted" '49er.

In the first rush to the gold mines of California the previous year, many died from cholera and other causes, and much clothing and other property were thrown away and appropirated by the Indians. This chief traveled with us two days and was useful in various ways, helping to select suitable camp grounds, gathering dried buffalo chips, etc. It was our first knowledge and experience in that kind of fuel for cooking purposes. That, with willow twigs and sage

brush, was all the fuel we had for many weeks, in fact until we reached the Black Hills in what is now Wyoming.

Upon the leave-taking of our "good Indian" we gave him numerous little presents, with which he was much pleased, and, mounting his pony, he was soon lost to view in the distance. In all my experience with Indians I have found kindness and good treatment as much appreciated as by the more civilized, and I have sometimes thought even more so.

Only a single tree was seen between the Elkhorn and Laramie, and that stood about 100 miles below the latter place, on the north bank of the Platte, near the water's edge. On my next overland trip in '53 I noticed that the "lone tree" had been cut down by some vandal who had not the fear of future punishment before his eyes. While in camp at this point I had a thrilling experience in crossing the Platte with a life-preserver, in an attempt to interview immigrants on the south side, many of whom were reported sick and dying with the cholera.

CHAPTER II.

ON THE PLATTE.

The main Platte river below Laramie is formed by the two principal branches, the North and South Forks, the Sweetwater, and some smaller streams that issue from the eastern slope of the Rocky Mountains. In the spring and early summer a large volume of water finds its way to the Missouri from the melting of snow upon the high range, and from the heavy rains that fall at that season of the year. Some of the severest thunder storms that I have ever witnessed were encountered as we approached the higher altitudes. Whenever these occurred our train was halted and every man sought shelter in our covered wagons from the driving rain, which was often accompanied with hail. The blinding flashes of lightning and near peals of thunder were at times most appalling.

To favor our animals as much as possible, no man was permitted to ride unless he was sick. The average distance traveled each day was about fifteen miles, except where wide stretches of desert or alkali plains were met with. Then a longer distance was traveled to reach grass and water, in some cases thirty or forty miles, and in one instance ninety miles.

The Platte water was unfit for use unless strained

or filtered, on account of the floating sand, which made it impossible to see the bottom even in the shallowest places. The river bed was simply moving sand, and new channels of uncertain depth were constantly being formed by the rapidly flowing water. Long streaks of sand or little islands appeared at one time, and again almost entirely disappeared, making a very dangerous stream to cross. At the "lone tree" it was perhaps three-quarters of a mile wide. While we were camped at that point there was also a company of immigrants in camp on the opposite side of the river. Up to this time, having had no communication with those who came by way of Fort Kearney, we were anxious to learn their condition, with reference to reports of many dying with the cholera on that route.

It fell to my lot to cross the river and interview them, but first I donned a life-preserver, as the crossing was dangerous, both from the wide, rapid channels and the quicksands, in which both men and animals had sometimes lost their lives. We were told of a man who, while out hunting with a well-trained horse, shot some game on a small island while on the main bank of the river, and throwing his bridle over a willow bush went to recover it. On his return, near the shore, he sank in the quicksand and was unable to extricate himself. Realizing his danger, as a last resort he whistled and called to his horse, which seemed instinctively to realize that some danger threatened. The horse pulled himself loose from the bush, went quickly to the aid of his master, and was induced to place himself in such a position that the man was able to grasp his tail. By that means the rider was extricated from his perilous position. I cannot vouch for the