gooseberries
from the bushes growing on the border of the river, and plucked some
beautiful wild roses, wondering the while why those wild roses grew
where nobody would see them.

The gap through the mountains looked familiar as I spied it from the
distance, but the roadbed to the right I had forgotten. I longed to see
this place; for here, somewhere under the sands, lies all that was
mortal of my brother, Clark Meeker, drowned in the Sweetwater in 1854.

[Illustration: _United States Geological Survey_

Devil's Gate, on the Sweetwater River, one of the famous landmarks on
the old trail.]

Independence Rock is the other most famous landmark. We drove over to
the Rock, a distance of six miles from the Devil's Gate, and camped at
ten o'clock for the day. This famous boulder covers about thirty acres.
We groped our way among the inscriptions, to find some of them nearly
obliterated and many legible only in part. We walked all the way around
the stone, nearly a mile. The huge rock is of irregular shape, and it is
more than a hundred feet high, the walls being so precipitous that
ascent to the top is possible in only two places.

Unfortunately, we could not find Fremont's inscription. Of this
inscription Fremont writes in his journal of the year 1842: "August 23.
Yesterday evening we reached our encampment at Rock Independence, where
I took some astronomical observations. Here, not unmindful of the custom
of early travelers and explorers in our country, I engraved on this rock
of the Far West a symbol of the Christian faith. Among the thickly
inscribed names, I made on the hard granite the impression of a large
cross. It stands amidst the names of many who have long since found
their way to the grave and for whom the huge rock is a giant
gravestone."

On Independence Day, 1906, we left Independence Rock. Our noon stop was
on Fish Creek, eleven miles away. The next night we camped on the North
Platte River. Fifty-four years before, I had left the old stream about
fifteen miles below here on my way to the West.

Next day, while nooning several miles out from Casper, we heard the
whistle of a locomotive. It was the first we had heard for nearly three
hundred miles. As soon as lunch was over, I left the wagon and walked to
Casper ahead of the team to select a camping ground, secure feed, and
get the mail.

A special meeting of the Commercial Club of Casper was held that
evening, and I laid the matter of building a mon