of an earthquake than of a shower.

So we went on, and a little after dark wound down among the
black baked bluffs to the crossing, without any of us having had
a drop to drink since before sunrise. After we had "lowered the
river six inches," as Jack declared, we went into camp.

We were up early in the morning, and Jack went down the river
with his gun and got a brace of grouse. There was one house near
the crossing, which was the post-office. The man who lived there
told us it was a hundred and twenty-five miles across the
Reservation to Pierre, and twenty miles to Peno Hill, the first
station at which we should find any one. The ford was deep, the
water coming up to the wagon-box, and there was ice along the
edges of the river. It was a fine clear day, however, and the
cold did not trouble us much. We wound up among the bluffs on the
other side of the river, and at the top had our last sight of the
Black Hills. We went on across the rolling prairie, black as ink,
as .the grass had all been burned off, and reached Peno Hill at a
little after noon. There was a rough board building, one end of
it a house and the other a barn. All of the stage stations were
built after this plan. We camped here for dinner, and pressed on
to reach Grizzly Shaw's for the night. About the middle of the
afternoon we passed Bad River Station, kept by one Mexican Ed.

"I'm going to watch and see if he runs when he sees Snoozer,"
said Ollie. Snoozer had insisted on walking most of the time
since his adventure with the horse-thieves; but, greatly to
Ollie's disappointment, Mexican Ed showed no signs of fear even
when Snoozer went so far as to growl at him.

As it grew dark we passed among the Grindstone
Buttes--several small hills. A prairie fire was burning among
them, and lit up the road for us. We came to Shaw's at last, and
went into camp. We visited the house before we went to bed, and
found that Shaw was grizzly enough to justify his name, and that
he had a family consisting of a wife and daughter and two
grandchildren.

"Pierre is our post-office," said Shaw, "eighty-five miles
away."

"The postman doesn't bring out your letters, then?" returned
Jack.

"We ain't much troubled with postmen, nor policemen, nor
hand-organ men, nor no such things," answered Shaw. "Still, once
in a while a sheriff goes by looking for somebody."

We told him of our experience with thieves, and he said:

"It's a wonder they didn'