e, we will give a good account of
them. Not to speak of my rifle, Bartle's and Gideon's are each worth
fifty muskets in the hands of the Indians; our other four fellows, with
your trooper, will keep the rest at bay, however many there may be of
them. The sergeant, too, will be able to handle a rifle before long, I
hope; while Clarice and Rachel will load the arms, and look after any of
us who may be hurt. But we need not talk about that; the varmints will
not trouble us, you may depend upon it."

When Bartle Won heard of the disappearance of the troopers, and that we
had examined our men, but had been unable to elicit any information from
them as to what had become of the truants, he observed,--"Leave that to
me. If they know anything about the matter, I will get it out of them
before long. As to the fellows having tumbled into the torrent, I do not
believe it. They are not likely to have gone off without our people
knowing something about it. They are either in hiding somewhere near
Roaring Water,--and if so, I shall soon ferret them out,--or else they
have gone away to take squaws from among the Indians, and set up for
themselves."

The lieutenant did not think that the latter proceeding was very
probable; but their absence was mysterious, and we had to confess that
we were no wiser as to their whereabouts than we were at first.

CHAPTER III.

MY FAMILY HISTORY--MY FATHER, ONCE A CAPTAIN IN THE BRITISH
ARMY, COMES TO AMERICA AND MARRIES UNCLE JEFF'S SISTER--HE
SETTLES ON A FARM IN OHIO--CLARICE AND I ARE BORN--MY
GRANDFATHER'S FARM DESTROYED BY A FLOOD--THE NEXT YEAR OUR FARM
IS BURNT--MY FATHER RESOLVES TO MIGRATE TO THE WEST--WE SET OFF
IN WAGGONS WITH AN EMIGRANT TRAIN--PROSPEROUS COMMENCEMENT OF
JOURNEY--PROVISIONS RUN SHORT--I WITNESS A BUFFALO HUNT--THE
EMIGRANTS SUFFER FROM CHOLERA--MY MOTHER DIES--MANY OF THE
EMIGRANTS TURN BACK--MY FATHER PERSEVERES--FIERCELY ATTACKED BY
INDIANS--WE KEEP THEM AT BAY--AGAIN ATTACKED, WHEN A STRANGER
COMES TO OUR ASSISTANCE--CLARICE GIVES HIM A BOOK--HE PROMISES
TO READ IT--WE CONTINUE OUR JOURNEY, AND REACH FORT
KEARNEY--REMAIN THERE FOR SOME MONTHS--MY FATHER, THOUGH STILL
SUFFERING, INSISTS ON SETTING OUT AGAIN--HE SOON BECOMES WORSE,
AND DIES--I AM DIGGING HIS GRAVE, WHEN AN EMIGRANT TRAIN COMES
BY--UNCLE JEFF IS THE LEADER, AND WE ACCOMPANY HIM TO ROARING
WATER.

But the rea