LITMIR.BIZ

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I returned to the road I found to my dis- may that they had covered quite a distance. It was my custom to wear cloth slippers in travelling, sleep- ing in them also, ready for any emergency that might arise, and this had hitherto proven a wise use of them, particularly on the over-land journey when cramped space in the ambulance was the inev- itable. In my haste to reach the road, or trail, I had the dreadful misfortune to run into a cactus clump. My slippers were instantly punctured with

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      innumerable needles. There was no time to stop even for an initial attempt to extricate them, as fear of some unseen enemy possessed my mind as cactus needles possessed my feet. A realizing sense of the distance between myself and my escort was one of torture, if not by Indians, none the less real. With limping step, increasing the pain every moment, and without sufficient voice left to be heard, I ran nearly a mile. . . . The team stopped as I neared it. Thoroughly exhausted, I fell prostrate. On being lifted into the ambulance, I was unable to stir or explain my dilemma, for sensations are felt not expressed at the actual time of their occurrence. My head was not crowned with a "victor's wreath," but my feet were filled with the "trophies of the race. "

      On recovering strength, with intermitted effort and perseverance I spent much of two days' jour- neying, so far as tearful eyes would permit, in extri- cating the cactus needles, a novel employment indeed, but one that demanded thoroughness as the price of future comfort.

      Certainly, whatever else I might reasonably have expected as incidental to the journey, this particular trial was not catalogued as a contingent adversary in my path. Of all the trials that I heard or read as confronting my sex in travelling the Plains, this was to me the most trying episode, up to that date.

      CHAPTER IX.

      TO FORT RENO—SCENERY AND INCIDENTS—THE CAC-

      TUS ARROWS OUR ONLY FOE.

      THE journey of forty miles from Fort Laramie brought us to Bridger's Ferry, where the North Platte was crossed, and with the exception of at Fort Reno and Fort Phil. Kearney there was not at that time a resident white man between the ferry and Bozeman, afterwards known as Bozeman City, Montana. At the date of our march John Bozeman owned the little semi-fortified ranch occupied by him and had realized much success in the cultivation of vegetables. He also furnished many supplies to the few emigrants that had tried the old Bozeman trail prior to the attempt to establish a permanent road for emigrants to Montana by that route.

      What was most necessary and always important was to find wood and water for camping purposes. It was almost impossible to detach oneself from present dreary surroundings, even in thought. Con- templation of beautiful mountains, even though one had to but lift the eyes to behold them apparently so near in the clear blue sky, brought no correspond- ing uplift of spirit, for mountains, hills, canons and ridges suggested a hidden foe, and yet the fact remained, topographically, that from the South Fork of the Cheyenne River we had a fine view of Lara- mie Peak five thousand nine hundred feet above sea level.

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      In some places where we found the river dry only a slight digging was necessary to start the water to the surface and secure the needed supply. Lack of fuel along this portion of the route as elsewhere, already noted, compelled us to use the dry sage- brush and buffalo chips.

      When the Dry Branch of Powder River was reached we obtained our first view of the Big Horn Mountains, eighty miles distant. Cloud Peak, which we knew to be just behind Fort Phil. Kearney, rose thirteen thousand feet above the sea. With but semi-consciousness one could not but feel in some degree the grandeur of the scene that unfolded con- stantly, like a great panorama, appealing to the sense as both picturesque and sublime. But I hon- estly confess that the most appealing sense at that time was that we had reached Fort Reno and would find something to eat, when once at the officers' mess- table, different from the contents of a mess-chest, our only source of supply during the long days of dusty travel.

      The two officers stationed there, Captain Proctor and Adjutant Thaddeus P. Kirtland, a cousin of our Colonel, were most hospitable and kind, surrender- ing their own quarters for my accommodation, and especially considerate in many ways to a lone woman who chanced to be their temporary guest. Two companies of the Eighteenth constituted the garri- son, and this was a source of special confidence.

      Fort Reno, formerly Fort Connor, was suffi- ciently safe at that time, except from marauding bands of hostile Indians who would drive off stock

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      at every available opportunity. These Indians were willing to pledge themselves not to disturb Reno, if the soldiers would simply occupy that Post and neither go nor build additional forts beyond that point. But Colonel Carrington, commanding the expedition of the summer just past and the entire Mountain District, had peremptory orders not only to garrison and repair Fort Reno, but to build two forts beyond, in the very face of intensely hostile protests. Our safety from molestation on the last day's march to Reno was wholly due to the fact that the tribes further north were preparing a great rally, to go upon the war path in great force against Fort Phil. Kearney and its vicinity. Hence it was that the farther we advanced only brought us nearer to the scene of greatest danger, and how great that was I did not then realize; otherwise, the journey might have terminated fatally for me before I reached there.

      I can say with the Psalmist, most truly, "He sheltered me from the terror by night, and from the arrow that flieth by noonday." In great mercy the veil was not drawn. The actual conditions at Phil. Kearney were not known fully even at Reno, or were considerately kept from our knowledge. The little travelling was done by occasional mail parties under imperative orders from Omaha, impossible of execution, "to forward a mail weekly at the rate of fifty miles per day, or stand a court martial for failure so to do." Of course, under my peculiar cir- cumstances, the officers at Reno withheld all uncer- tain rumors to hasten our safe progress before any

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      more violent demonstrations were made by the Indians between Reno and Phil. Kearney. My hus- band was a soldier reporting for duty and had no hesitation in implicity obeying orders, so that as soon as rested we bade good-by to our kind hosts, never dreaming, thank God, that we should ever visit Fort Reno so differently, as proved to be our destiny.

      CHAPTER X.

       TO CRAZY WOMAN'S FORK—ITS TRADITION AND FIGHT.

       AFTER a march of twenty-six miles we reached Crazy Woman's Fork of the Powder River in safety. Just at the crossing, the stream makes a sharp turn, giving two separate fords, and having a steep bank on the east side as the traveller enters its basin, but on the west side rising gradually to the summit of the divide that separates its waters from those of Clear Creek.

      The only episode connected with this camp was the discovery of a lone stray white cow, that sug- gested to myself an apparition, at first, in the dis- tance. Not so to the men of the party, who made a precipitate movement toward her in the hope of se- curing fresh beef. After considerable effort the cow was captured. She must have had a history, but she kept it all to herself, for if there had been any ade- quate endowment of her use of the English language, in place of her limited vocal range, I doubt not that she would have given us an interesting narrative, for record here. It certainly did seem strange to us to see this isolated specimen of civilized association so completely astray from all suitable guardianship or care. Was she lost from some emigrant train, or had she been run off by Indians and managed to subsist upon buffalo grass in lieu of better prov- ender? We wondered in vain, but afterwards learned that several estrays from a large herd that

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      accompanied the expedition in the summer were lost on the way. At any rate she was our captive, and after improvised methods of the speediest style we made a sacrifice of

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