of Manhattan, Kansas, and there
it is in the city cemetery of to-day."

The river did not go down, as the men had hoped, so they began to cut
down trees and split them into twenty-five-foot logs which were
hollowed out and joined together by cross timbers, these were firmly
lashed to stakes driven into the bank, and ropes were tied to each end
to pull the rafts back and forth across the river. It was no easy
matter to get the heavy wagons down the steep bank to the rafts, and
they had to be held back by the ropes and let down slowly so the
wheels would run into the hollowed logs. The women and children stayed
in the wagons, and talked and laughed gaily, that they might not show
the fear they felt as they balanced above the swollen river. But it
was crossed safely and then on the oxen jogged over a rough road until
the great Valley of the Platte was reached, where the road was good
and the country beautiful beyond expression. Virginia says: "Our party
was now so large that there was a line of forty wagons winding its way
like a serpent through the valley. There was no danger of any kind,
and each day was happier than the one before. How I enjoyed galloping
over the plains on Billy!" she exclaims, adding, "At night we young
folks would sit around the camp-fire, chatting merrily, and often a
song would be heard, or some clever dancer would give us a barn-door
jig on the hind gate of a wagon!"

The caravan wound its slow way westward, making from fifteen to twenty
miles a day, and always at night, when the party camped, a corral was
formed to protect the cattle from thieving Indians, who, says
Virginia, sadly, "are not like grandma's Indians. They treat us kindly
except for taking our things, which is annoying but not terrifying."
And she adds, "We have fine fare for those who like to eat game, as we
have so many good riflemen in the party who are always bringing it
in." She then confesses, "I certainly never thought I would be
relishing antelope and buffalo steaks, but they are good food when one
has grown used to them. Often I ride with father in a buffalo hunt,
which is very thrilling. We all help Eliza, who has turned into a fine
camp cook. As soon as we reach the place where we are to spend the
night all hands get to work, and, my, but things taste good when that
meal is ready! When we drove into the South Fork of the Platte, Eliza
had the cream ready to churn, and while we were fording the stream she
worked so hard