ney to the land of gold, and it was less than half accomplished. Five hundred miles lay between us and the Mormon settlement at Salt Lake, and nearly 1,500 before reaching our destination. After carefully considering the situation, it was decided to leave our wagons and construct pack-saddles, making the burden as light as possible for our animals. Their weakened condition and the increasing heaviness of the roads and shortness of feed seemed to make this an absolute necessity.

If a house or barn, or a bridge, was to be built, we had men who could have gone to work intelligently, but a pack-saddle-"that was a horse of another color." But "where there is a will there is a way," and necessity was our "mother of invention." Most of the boys had never seen a pack-saddle. A couple of us had watched Kit Carson mending his at Laramie and we had to take the initiative. Every one was ready to do his part

As we would have no further use for our wagons we decided, after due deliberation, to cut the spokes from the wheels for saddles, and pack our cooking utensils and sufficient provisions to supply our needs to the Mormon settlement. Our wagons were made of the best material expressly for the trip, and we little expected to be compelled to use them for such a purpose, or to leave them for fuel either for Indians or emigrants coming after us whose necessities might not be as great as our own.

Two crosses, two feet in length and about fifteen inches apart, with a board beneath the lower extremities to rest upon either side of the animals' backs, and the upper projections upon which to hang our blankets, frying pans, coffee pots, etc., was what we evolved

from our limited knowledge and common sense to constitute a pack-saddle. Of course we were to ride "shank's horses" in the future, as we had mainly in the past. In fact, we had simply become human walking machines.

Many things that brought to our minds sweet thoughts of home, mother, sisters and sweethearts had to be left with our wrecked vehicles, even guns, clothing, boots, shoes and books, but the little Bibles and keepsakes-never! Then it was goodby Independence Rock, and "Ho, for Salt Lake;" "Now for a gay old time;" "You bet," were the cheerful exclamations as we took up our line of march.

There was no murmuring, shirking or complaining during all the journey that tried men's (and women's) souls, or wishing we had done this, or had done that There was plenty of other "sand" in our little company besides that through which we plodded day after day.

CHAPTER IV.

PACK SADDLES AND PERILS.

Before bidding a final adieu to the locality around which cluster some of the most eventful incidents in overland immigration to the Pacific Coast, I will refer briefly to one or two incidents that make this particular portion of the route especially memorable.

The fact that during the decade from 1840 to 1850 not less than 75,000 emigrants, at a conservative estimate, passed this point is worthy of note.

Previous to reaching this point different routes were followed, thereby providing better facilities for graz ing, but at the upper crossing of the Platte, notably in the great emigration of '49-'50, the feed became exhausted long before the later travelers reached this part of the journey.

We witnessed many sorrowful evidences of the sicknesses and misfortunes of those of the previous year, in the numerous graves, the bones of dead animals, and remnants of discarded property. History does not furnish a parallel to the excitement and terrible experiences of many of those of the 50,000 who rushed to the mines of California in 1849-50. Knowing the hardships of the emigrants of the preceding year we regarded ourselves as having comparatively

little of which to complain. Probably no part of the journey presented a more discouraging aspect than around Independence Rock, where many were compelled to leave both animals and wagons, and travel with what they could carry upon their backs. I have referred to Gen. J. C. Fremont's explorations as United States topographical engineer in the years 1843-4 in this region. The following incident not only illustrates the indifference to danger in the discharge of duty that characterized frontier men, but shows somewhat the character of the high altitudes as one approaches the head waters of the streams that take their rise in the Rocky Mountains.

At the junction of the Sweetwater and North Platte the waters pass between perpendicular rocks from 300 to 500 feet high, forming a narrow' dark canyon seven or eight miles long, with numerous falls and dangerous rapids.

In pursuance of his instructions to make a thorough survey of the Plattè river, General Fremont entered the canyon with a rubber boat with five men, his instruments for taking observations, blankets, books, papers and journal of his expedition, etc. After passing several dangerous falls in safety, he writes in his narrative:

"To go back was impossible. Before us the cataract was a sheet of foam and shut up in the chasm of the rocks, which in some places seemed to meet overhead. The roar of the waters was deafening. We pushed off again, but after making a little distance the force of the current became too great for the men on shore and two of them let go of the rope attached to the stern of the boat. Lajeunesse, the third man, hung on and was jerked head foremost into the river from a

rock about twelve feet high, and down the boat shot like an arrow-Basil following us in the rapid current and exerting all his strength to keep in midchannel, his head only seen occasionally, like a black spot in the white foam. He owed his life to his skill as a swimmer, and I determined to take all on board and trust to skill and fortune to reach the other end in safety. We placed ourselves on our knees, with short paddles in our hands, and again commenced our rapid descent. We cleared rock after rock and shot past fall after fall; becoming familiar with the danger and singing, or rather shouting, we dashed along, when suddenly the boat struck a concealed rock immediately at the foot of a fall, which hurled her over in an instant. Three of my men could not swim and my first feeling was to assist them and save some of our effects, but a sharp concussion or two convinced me that I had not yet saved myself. A few strokes brought me into an eddy and I landed on a pile of rocks. Looking around I saw Mr. Preuss had gained the shore on the same side, and a little climbing and swimming soon brought him to my side. On the opposite side, against the rocks, lay the boat bottomside up, and Lambert was in the act of saving Descoteaux, whom he had grasped by the hair and who could not swim. Each man showed courage and generosity in this danger. For a hundred yards. below, the current was covered with floating books boxes, bales and blankets, and so strong was the stream that even our heavy instruments in cases kept on the surface, and the sextant circle and the long black box of the telescope were in view at once. All our books, almost every record of the journey and registers