The gathering began early in April, and by the end of the month some 20,000, representing every town. and village in the States, were encamped on the frontier, making their final preparations, and waiting until the grass on the plains should be high enough to feed the animals. At the opening of May the grand procession started, and from then till the beginning of June company after company left the frontier, till the trail from the starting-point to Fort Laramie presented one long line of pack-trains and wagons. Along

some sections of the road the stream was unbroken for miles, and at night, far as the eye could reach, camp-fires gleamed like the lights of a distant city. "The rich meadows of the Nebraska or Platte," writes Bayard Taylor, "were settled for the time, and a single traveller could have journeyed for 1,000 miles, as certain of his lodging and regular meals as if he were riding through the old agricultural districts of the middle states."

For a while there is little to check the happy anticipations formed during the excitement, and sustained by the well-filled larders and a new country; and so, with many an interchange of chat and repartee, between the bellowing and shouting of animals and men, and the snapping of whips, the motley string of pedestrians and horsemen advances by the side of the creaking wagons. Occasionally a wayside spring or brook prolongs the midday halt of the more sober-minded, while others hasten on to fill the gap. Admonished by declining day, the long line breaks into groups, which gather about five o'clock at the spots selected to camp for the night. The wagons roll into a circle, or on a river bank in semicircle, to form a bulwark against a possible foe, and a corral for the animals

5 Thursday, June 8th. Met a man whose train was on ahead, who told us that he had counted 459 teams within nine miles. When we started after dinner there were 150 that appeared to be in one train... Friday, June 23d. Passed the upper Platte ferry. The ferryman told me he had crossed 900 teams, and judged that there were about 1,500 on the road ahead of us. Yet still they come.' Kirkpatrick's Journal, MS., 14, 16.

A CAMP ON THE WAY.

now turned loose to graze and rest.

147

Tents unfold,

fires blaze, and all is bustle; women cooking, and men tending and tinkering. Then comes a lull; the meal over, the untrammelled flames shoot aloft, pressing farther back the flitting shadows, and finding reflection in groups of contented faces, moving in sympathy to the changing phases of some story, or to the strains of song and music. The flames subside; a hush falls on the scene; the last figures steal away under tent and cover, save two, the sentinels, who stalk around to guard against surprise, and to watch the now picketed animals, till relieved at midnight. With the first streaks of dawn a man is called from each wagon

to move the beasts to better feed. Not long after four o'clock all are astir, and busy breakfasting and preparing to start. Tents are struck, and horses harnessed, and at six the march is taken up again.

Not until the River Platte is reached, some ten or fifteen days out, does perfect order and routine reign. The monotonous following of this stream wears away that novelty which to the uninitiated seems to demand a change of programme for every day's proceedings, and about this point each caravan falls into ways of its own, and usually so continues to the end of the journey, under the supervision of an elected captain

Specimen of emigrant song in Walton's Gold Regions, 28-32; Stillman's Golden Fleece, 23-4.

and his staff. Harmony is often broken, however, at one time on the score of route and routine, at another in the enforcement of regulations; and even if the latter be overcome by amendments and change of officers, enough objections may remain to cause the split of a party. Associates quarrel and separate; the hired man, finding himself master of the situation, grows insolent and rides on, leaving his employer behind. The sameness of things often palls as days and months pass away and no sign of human habitation. appears; then, again, the changes from prairies where the high grass half covers the caravan to sterile plain, from warm pleasant valleys to bleak and almost impassable mountains, and thence down into miasmatic swamps with miry stretches, and afterward sandy sinks and forbidding alkali wastes and salt flats baked and cracked by sun, and stifling with heat and dust; through drenching rains and flooded lowlands, and across the sweeping river currents and all with occasional chilling blasts, suffocating simoons, and constant fear of savages.

This and more had the overland travellers to encounter in greater or less degree during their jaunt of 2,000 miles and more. Yet, after all, it was not always hard and horrible. There was much that was enjoyable, particularly to persons in health-bright skies, exhilarating air, and high anticipations. For romance as well as danger the overland journey was not behind the voyage by sea, notwithstanding the several changes in the latter of climate, lands, and peoples. Glimpses of landscapes and society were rare from shipboard, and the unvarying limitless water became dreary with monotony. Storms and other dangers brought little inspiration or reliance to counteract oppressive fear. Man lay here a passive toy for the elements. But each route had its attractions and discomforts, particularly the latter.

The Indians in 1849 were not very troublesome. The numbers of the pale-faces were so large that they

THE INDIANS AND CHOLERA.

149

did not know what to make of it. So they kept prudently in the background, rarely venturing an attack, save upon some solitary hunter or isolated band, with an occasional effort at stampeding stock. Some sought intercourse with the white men, hoping by begging, stealing, and offer of services to gain some advantage from the transit, nevertheless keeping the suspicious emigrants constantly on the alert.

The Indians' opportunity was to come in due time, however, after other troubles had run their course. The first assumed the terrible form of cholera, which, raging on the Atlantic seaboard, ascended the Mississippi, and overtook the emigrants about the time of their departure, following them as far as the elevated mountain region beyond Fort Laramie. At St Joseph and Independence it caused great mortality among those who were late in setting out; and for hundreds of miles along the road its ravages were recorded by newly made graves, sometimes marked by a rough head-board, but more often designated only by the desecration of wolves and coyotes. The emigrants were not prepared to battle with this dreadful foe. It is estimated that 5,000 thus perished; and as many of these were the heads of families on the march, the affliction was severe. So great was the terror inspired that the victims were often left to perish on the roadside by their panic-stricken companions. On the other hand, there were many instances of heroic devotion, of men remaining alone with a comrade while the rest of the company rushed on to escape contagion, and nursing him to his recovery, to be in turn stricken down. and nursed by him whose life had been saved. It seemed as if the scourge had been sent upon them by a divinity incensed at their thirst for gold, and some of the more superstitious of the emigrants saw therein the hand of Providence, and returned. To persons thus disposed, that must have been a spectacle of dreadful import witnessed by Cassin and his party. They were a few days out from Independence; the

cholera was at its height, when one day they saw afar off, and apparently walking in the clouds, a procession of men bearing aloft a coffin. It was only a mirage, the reflection of a funeral taking place a day's journey distant, but to the beholders it was an omen of their fate set up in the heavens as a warning.

Thus it was even in the route along the banks of the Platte, where meadows and springs had tempted the cattle, and antelopes and wild turkeys led on the yet spirited hunter to herds of buffalo and stately elk; for here was the gaine region. This river was

8

usually struck at Grand Island, and followed with many a struggle through the marshy ground to the south branch, fordable at certain points and seasons, at others crossed by ferriage, on rafts or canoes lashed together, with frequent accidents. Hence the route led along the north branch from Ash Hollow to Fort Laramie, the western outpost of the United States, and across the barren Black Hill country, or by the river bend, up the Sweetwater tributary into the south pass of the Rocky Mountains. The ascent is almost imperceptible, and ere the emigrant is aware of having crossed the central ridge of the continent, he finds himself at the head of the Pacific water system, at Green River, marked by a butte of singular formation, like a ruined edifice with majestic dome and pillars.

The next point was Fort Hall,' at the junction of

Calked wagon-beds and sheet-iron boats were brought into service. 'Within our hearing to-day twelve men have found a watery grave,' writes Kirkpatrick, Journal, MS., 16, at Platte ferry, June 21, 1849; see also Cassin's A Few Facts on Cal., MS., 2; Brown's Eirly Days in Cal., MS., 3-4.

8 For forts on this route, see Hist. B. C., this series; U. S. Gov. Doc., 31st cong. 1st sess., H. Ex. Doc., v. pt i. 224. Many desertions took place from the garrison. Coke's Ride, 156. The first company arrived here May 22d; cholera was disappearing, the Crows were watching to carry off cattle. Placer Times, Oct. 13, 1849. One emigrant journal shows that it took fully six weeks to traverse the 670 miles between Independence and this fort.

"The fort was reached by two routes from the south pass, the more direct, Sublette's cut-off, crossed the head waters of the Sandy and down Bear River to its junction with the Thomas branch. The other followed the Sandy to Green River; crossed this and the ridge to Fort Bridger; thence across the Muddy Fork and other Green River tributaries into Bear River Valley, and