Some of the
young men, keen for hunting, had made themselves sick by getting
overheated and drinking impure water. Such was the experience of my
brother Oliver. Being of an adventurous spirit, he could not restrain
his ardor, gave chase to the buffaloes, and fell sick almost to death.

This occurred just at the time when we encountered the cholera panic. It
must be the cholera that had taken hold of him, his companions argued.
Some of his party could not delay.

"It is certain death," I said, "to take him along in that condition."

They admitted this to be true.

"Divide the outfit, then," it was suggested.

Two of Oliver's companions, the Davenport brothers, would not leave him;
so their portion of the outfit was set aside with his. This gave the
three a wagon and a team.

Turning to Buck, I said, "I can't ask you to stay with me."

The answer came back as quick as a flash, "I'm going to stay with you
without asking."

And he did, too, though my brother was almost a total stranger to him.

We nursed the sick man for four days amidst scenes of death and
excitement such as I hope never again to see. On the fifth day we were
able to proceed and to take the convalescent man with us.

The experience of our camp was the experience of hundreds of others:
there were countless incidents of friends parting; of desertion; of
noble sacrifice; of the revelation of the best and the worst in man.

In a diary of one of these pioneers, I find the following: "Found a
family consisting of husband, wife, and four small children, whose
cattle we supposed had given out and died. They were here all alone, and
no wagon or cattle in sight." They had been thrown out by the owner of a
wagon and left on the road to die.

From a nearby page of the same diary, I read: "Here we met Mr. Lot
Whitcom, direct from Oregon. Told me a great deal about Oregon. He has
provisions, but none to sell; but gives to all he finds in want, and who
are unable to buy."

[Illustration]

[Illustration: Pioneers on the march.]

CHAPTER SIX

THE PIONEER ARMY OF THE PLAINS

DURING the ox-team days a mighty army of pioneers went West. In the year
that we crossed (1852), when the migration was at its height, this army
made an unbroken column fully five hundred miles long. We knew by the
inscribed dates found on Independence Rock and elsewhere that there were
wagons three hundred miles ahead of us, and the throng continued
crossing the rive