where they joined the trail from Kanesville. The Santa Fe Trail was the
earliest trail to be made; trading expeditions had gone from St. Louis
to Santa Fe since the early 1800's. The California Trail and the Oregon
Trail are the same as far as the big bend of the Bear River, at which
point the California Trail goes off to the southwest.]

[Illustration]

We drivers had little time for looking and for making comparisons. All
our attention had to be given to our teams, for as we neared the
landing we found the roads terribly cut up on account of the
concentrated travel.

It was indeed a sight long to be remembered. The "white flatiron" proved
to be wagons with their tongues pointing to the landing. A center train
with other parallel trains extended back in the rear, gradually covering
a wider range the farther back from the river it went. Several hundred
wagons were thus closely interlocked, completely blocking the approach
to the landing.

All about were camps of every kind, some without any covering at all,
others with comfortable tents. Nearly everybody appeared to be intent on
merrymaking, and the fiddlers and dancers were busy; but here and there
were small groups engaged in devotional services. These camps contained
the outfits, in great part, of the wagons in line; some of them had been
there for two weeks with still no prospect of securing an early
crossing. Two scows only were engaged in crossing the wagons and teams.

The muddy waters of the Missouri had already swallowed up two victims.
On the first day we were there, I saw a third victim go under the drift
of a small island within sight of his shrieking wife. The stock had
rushed to one side of the boat, submerging the gunwale, and had
precipitated the whole load into the dangerous river. One yoke of oxen
that had reached the farther shore deliberately reentered the river with
a heavy yoke on, and swam to the Iowa side; there they were finally
saved by the helping hands of the assembled emigrants.

"What shall we do?" was the question passed around in our party, without
answer. Tom McAuley was not yet looked upon as a leader, as was the case
later.

"Build a boat," said his sister Margaret, a most determined maiden lady,
the oldest of the party and as resolute and brave as the bravest.

But of what should we build it? While a search for material was being
made, one of our party, who had got across the river in search of
timber, discovered a scow, almo