vide
for them while in the region of timber; so we stopped, cut jack-oak,
made it into lengths and stored them in the wagon until time and place
were more opportune for wheel-wrighting. This broken wheel proved to be
a hoodoo, as will appear at intervals during the story of the next few
weeks.

In attempting to cross the slough which lies near to and parallel with
the river for a long distance, my team and wagon, leading the others, no
sooner got fairly on to the slough, which was crusted over, than the
wagon sank in clear to its bed, and the horses sank until they were
resting on their bellies as completely as though they were entirely
without legs.

And there we were, the longed-for bluffs just before us, and yet as
unapproachable as if they were located in Ireland. A party of campers,
numbering some fifty or seventy-five, who were resting near by, came to
our relief. The horses were extricated, and, after we had carried the
contents of the wagon to the bluff shore, they drew the wagon out with
cow-teams, whose flat, broad hoofs kept them from sinking. Cow-teams
were used quite extensively in those days, being very docile and also
swift walkers.

Here under the bluffs over-hanging the Missouri, we completed our
organization, for it was not only necessary that every man go armed, but
also each man knew his special duty and place. W. W. Wadsworth, a brave
and noble man, was by common consent made captain. Four men were
detailed each night to stand guard, two till 1 o'clock, when they were
relieved by two others, who served till daylight.

Monday morning came, and at sunrise we started on the trail that led up
the hollow and on to the great plains of Kansas and Nebraska. The day
was warm and bright and clear. The sight before us was the most
beautiful I had ever seen. Not a tree nor an obstacle was in sight; only
the great rolling sea of brightest green beneath us and the vivid blue
above. I think it must have been just such a scene as this that inspired
a modern writer to pen those expressive and much admired lines:

"I'm glad the sky is painted blue
And the grass is painted green,
And a lot of nice fresh air
All sandwiched in between."

Sky, air, grass; what an abundance of them! in all the pristine splendor
of fifty-three years ago, was ours upon that spring morning. This, then,
was the land which in later years was called the "Great American
Desert." I have now lived in Nebraska f