or a quarter of a century and
know whereof I speak when I say that in those days the grass was as
green and luxuriant as it is today; the rivers were fringed with willow
green as they are today; the prairie roses, like pink stars, dotted the
trail sides through which we passed; and, later on, clumps of golden-rod
smiled upon us with their sun-hued faces; the rains fell as they have
been falling all these years, and several kinds of birds sang their
praises of it all. This was "the barren, sandy desert," as I saw it more
than half a hundred years ago.

Perhaps right here it will be well to ask the reader to bear in mind the
fact that the boundary lines of Nebraska in 1852, were different from
the boundary lines of today. They extended many miles farther south, and
so many miles farther west, that we stepped out of Nebraska on to the
summit of the Sierra Nevada Mountains into California.

It was at this stage of our journey, that, in going out, very early in
the morning to catch my horse, I noticed ahead of me something sticking
up above the grass. Stepping aside to see what it might be, I found a
new-made grave; just a tiny grave; at its head was the object I had
seen--a bit of board bearing the inscription,

"Our only child,
Little Mary."

How my heart saddened as I looked upon it! The tiny mound seemed bulging
with buried hopes and happiness as the first rays of a new sun fell
across it, for well I knew that somewhere on the trail ahead of us there
were empty arms, aching hearts, and bitter longings for the baby who was
sleeping so quietly upon the bosom of the prairie.

The first Indians we saw were at Wolf Creek, where they had made a
bridge of logs and brush, and charged us fifty cents per wagon to pass
over it. We paid it and drove on, coming northwest to the vicinity of
the Big Blue River, at a point near where Barneston, Gage County, is now
located.

As a couple of horsemen, a comrade and myself, riding in advance, came
suddenly to the Big Blue, where, on the opposite bank stood a party of
thirty or forty Indians. We fell back, and when the train came up a
detail was made of eight men to drive the teams and the other sixteen
were to wade the river, rifles in hand.

In making preparations to ford the river, Captain Wadsworth, as a
precaution of safety, placed his wife in the bottom of their wagon-bed,
and piled sacks of flour around her as a protection in case of a fight.

Being one of th