e pack-trains. General
Sheridan, who knew Gilson long before the war, in Oregon and Washington,
regarded the celebrated packer with more than ordinary friendship.
For many years he was employed by the government at the suggestion
of General Sheridan, to teach the art of packing to the officers and
enlisted men at several military posts in the West. He received a large
salary, and for a long period was stationed at the immense cavalry depot
of Fort Riley, in Kansas. Gilson was also employed by the British army
during the Zulu war in Africa, as chief packer, at a salary of twenty
dollars a day. Now, however, since the railroads have penetrated the
once considered impenetrable fastnesses of the mountains, packing will
be relegated to the lost arts.

CHAPTER V. FIGHT WITH COMANCHES.

Early in the spring of 1828, a company of young men residing in the
vicinity of Franklin, Missouri, having heard related by a neighbour who
had recently returned the wonderful story of a passage across the great
plains, and the strange things to be seen in the land of the Greasers,
determined to explore the region for themselves; making the trip in
wagons, an innovation of a startling character, as heretofore only
pack-animals had been employed in the limited trade with far-off Santa
Fe. The story of their journey can best be told in the words of one of
the party:[19]--

We had about one thousand miles to travel, and as there was
no wagon-road in those early days across the plains to the
mountains, we were compelled to take our chances through
the vast wilderness, seeking the best route we could.

No signs of life were visible except the innumerable buffalo
and antelope that were constantly crossing our trail.
We moved on slowly from day to day without any incident
worth recording and arrived at the Arkansas; made the
passage and entered the Great American Desert lying beyond,
as listless, lonesome, and noiseless as a sleeping sea.
Having neglected to carry any water with us, we were obliged
to go withot a drop for two days and nights after leaving
the river. At last we reached the Cimarron, a cool,
sparkling stream, ourselves and our animals on the point
of perishing. Our joy at discovering it, however, was
short-lived. We had scarcely quenched our thirst when