ometimes to his waist. Thus they tow the boat a half mile. From the way
they hold their breath the water must be cold. Well, it is October 10,
in blizzard-swept Dakota. But after two hours of work we are safely
landed on the west side of the river and soon we are toiling slowly out
of the _breaks_ of the river. After a ride of a few hours we come to a
creek with no water but plenty of wood. Here dinner is announced. This
is camping in earnest. This is not play. Camping in the East is
generally within sound of the cackle of the hen and the low of the cow.
But here you must live off of the land or out of your mess-chest. We
combine the two. Many hotels and families could learn a good lesson from
an experienced traveler and camper. In less than thirty minutes from the
time we stop, horses are unharnessed, fire built, prairie chicken
dressed and cooked, coffee made, table spread, blessing asked and we
busy with the tender and juicy chicken. This is the same order at each
meal.

At night we sleep on the earth and under the sky, with but little
between us and either sky or earth. This is a new and somewhat larger
bedroom than I have been used to. But with no house within twenty miles
we are unmolested. What a place! I listen. "All the air a solemn
stillness holds." I look. "So lonesome it is that God himself scarce
seems to be there." But the clear air and quiet night soon lull me into
unbroken slumber. Thus we travel until we reach Park St. Church Station,
where we find our comfortable log house of one room ready to receive us.
Though we reach the house at eleven o'clock at night, a full half dozen
come to greet us, saying, "Catka, winyau waste luha, lila caute ma
waste." "Left Hand, (Mr. Cross) you have a good woman, so I am happy."
Sunday comes; at eleven o'clock we go to the neat little room, chapel
and schoolroom. Here fifty men and women with children of all ages,
listen with eagerness and attention to Mr. Cross as he tells them of the
wise men who came to seek Jesus. Some of the faces are dirty, and so is
much of the clothing. But all listen as if they perhaps might see this
same Jesus. This is Dakota, our field, our people to save.

* * * * *

NEW CHURCH AT FORT YATES, NORTH DAKOTA.

REV. T.L. RIGGS.

On Sunday, the 8th, we took steps here in the organization of a new
church. By invitation, two of our Oahe Church, Solomon Bear Ear and
David Lee, were present from the Cheyenne Rive