* * * * *
Wednesday, July 12.
We crossed the Big Laramie River just before noon. Had a good crossing; the water is clear, the bed of the river is covered with gravel, the banks are low, and the water is not very deep. I rode across on Dick; the water just came to my stirrup. We will stay here until to-morrow, as there is no water for fifteen or twenty miles, and we cannot go sofar in half a day. We young people planned a fishing expedition for this evening, but the mosquitoes are so thick on the bank of the river we had to give it up. Some of the boys went seining; Brother Winthrop was among them, so we will have fish for breakfast to-morrow morning.
The mosquitoes have not disturbed our rest at night, yet they have several times been very thick on the banks of the rivers, but have not been troublesome in camp. Perhaps the smoke keeps them away. The McMahan train keeps with us, so we are safe. Dr. Howard rode with us this morning; he is a widower.
* * * * *
Thursday, July 13.
We passed two large ponds of alkali this morning. The water had dried up, and the alkali was two or three inches thick all over the pond; it looked like ice, until we came very near.
Mrs. Hardinbrooke had a sick headache this afternoon; I took care of little Anniethat she might not disturb her mother. She is a dear, sweet child and seems fond of me.
There was a rather serious accident as we were driving into corral. Mr. Hazelwood’s horses were frightened and ran away, upsetting the wagon and smashing it up considerably. Mrs. Hazelwood, her sister, and two children were in the wagon; Mrs. H. was considerably bruised, the others were not hurt.
Dick drank alkali water this evening. I have been feeding him fat bacon; no doubt the grease and alkali have turned to soap before now in his stomach, and soap is not poison, so he will not die this time, and I will take better care of him the next time we are near alkali.
Friday, July 14.
The men were until almost noon repairing the broken wagon. An accident that happensto one is assumed by all until results are overcome. As we were ready for the start, a little girl ran among the oxen to catch her pet crow; an ox kicked her on the forehead and cut a gash that had to have a few stitches and be bandaged, so we were delayed again. When order reigned once more we crossed the Little Laramie. It is very much like the Big Laramie, only not so wide nor deep; I rode Dick over, and then came on ahead of the train, keeping within sight. When we had traveled about an hour the rain came down. I was likely to get very wet before our wagons came, for they were among the last in the train; I took the saddle and bridle off Dick, sat down on the saddle to keep it dry, and to wait for the wagon. I was resigning myself to a drenching when Mr. Grier, driver of the front wagon, came and spread a great big rubber coat over me, so that I was completely sheltered and was hardly damp when our wagons came.
Then mother drove the horses close upto the wagon in front. I tossed my saddle and bridle in, hopped up on the tongue of the wagon before the wagon behind got close up, and we started without stopping but the one wagon. We could not stop until we came to feed for stock, so we were obliged to travel in the rain. We drove into corral about fourP.M., and are again quite near the mountains. There are more pleasant things than camping in the rain. The water is so impregnated with alkali I fear it will cause sickness; the stock are in greater danger than we, for we can guard against it.
* * * * *
Saturday, July 15.
As I climbed out of the wagon this morning I saw the most beautiful rainbow I ever looked at. The bow was complete, the colors dazzlingly bright and just as vivid in the center as at the ends. It was not raining in camp, but raining hard on the mountain-side. The rainbow was so near we might easily have reached the end and “found the pot ofgold.” The rain came down all morning; we did not break camp until ten o’clock and then made only a short drive. We are camping among the hills once more, with not another train in sight. The McMahan train is behind us, but we do not know how far away they are, so we are glad to wait until they catch up. There is a mountain near that I would like to climb, but it is against orders.
* * * * *
Sunday, July 16.
We are all here; although some of the women last night seemed to think there was small chance of our seeing the light of this morning’s sun. Had we known that the McMahan train was within calling distance—just a hill intervening—perhaps we would have rested easier and slept more soundly. It is considered a very dangerous place where we were last night and where we have traveled to-day. Although it is Sunday, I am sure there is not one in camp that would have voted to stay there to rest. We haveheard horrible stories of the depredations that have been committed along this road and in these mountains within the last month. We saw with our own eyes—just before we came to Rock Creek—a station that had been burned and all the inmates killed or taken prisoners; there were none to tell the story of the fight, although the bodies of all who were known to be there were not found. The buildings were not all burned, the fire either went out, or was put out by the rain, after the Indians left. They have been repaired, and soldiers stationed there now. We saw at the same station a coach that had been riddled with bullets; it was found on the road about a mile from the station, without horses, driver or passengers.
It is supposed the Indians killed the driver, took the horses, and it is not known yet whether there were passengers or not, the coach being so riddled with bullets; it isfeared there were passengers. A guard of soldiers go with the coaches we meet, or that pass us now. We crossed Rock Creek on a toll-bridge, and had to pay fifty cents toll for each wagon.
Just after we crossed the bridge, and where there is a sudden turn in the road, as it winds around the mountain, we saw where two men had been killed and two wagons burned last week. The tire became loose on a wheel of the next to the last wagon in a freight train, the men stopped to tighten it, while the rest of the train moved on, not thinking of danger, and was out of sight in a few minutes. An hour later some of the men came back to see what kept them. There they were—dead and scalped—the horses gone, and wagons on fire. The Indians had taken all the freight they could use, piled wood under the wagons, and set it on fire. We saw quantities of white beans scattered over the ground, also the irons from the wagons.
We are within sight of Elk Mountain andseemingly quite near it. Sim and Hillhouse picked a nice lot of gooseberries while stopping at noon. I have been sitting in the wagon, picking off stems all afternoon; they also brought a bucket of snow. It is really refreshing, and such a novelty to have a snow-ball to eat in July. The gooseberries are quite plentiful around here. Cash and I went with Hillhouse and Sim to pick some this evening, but a shower drove us to camp; the boys stayed and picked as long as they could see. If we had time, we could gather gooseberries enough to supply the train for a month. They are very fine and large; they are certainly an acceptable addition to our bill-of-fare, where a sameness of diet is unavoidable. I shall always consider them a fine fruit hereafter.
About an hour after we drove into corral the McMahan train came, and their corral is quite near. We are so glad they are here; we feel safe when they are near.
* * * * *
Monday, July 17.
Such a cold, rainy, dismal day as this has been. It has rained without stopping from early morn until now, and it is almost sundown. This is the first all-day rain we have had this Summer. It has rained all night several times, but that is not so bad.
Since we have been in this Indian country the tents have not been put up; every one seems to think it safer in the wagons than in tents outside the corral, so we have had to sit in the wagons all day. I have read, sewed, written, picked over gooseberries and ran through the rain and visited some, yet the day has seemed long. The herders have to take the stock two miles away to find feed, so we are consumed with anxiety, notwithstanding we know our Father’s care is round and about us, and He can and will protect us. When we came here we could see Elk Mountain, but now it is enveloped in clouds, entirely hidden from view. It is not pleasant camping when it rains all day long.
* * * * *
Tuesday, July 18.
The wagons started soon after daylight, before we were out of bed. We had been on the road a little while when I heard Hillhouse call to Brother Winthrop—who was driving our wagon—“Oh, just look, Wint. Isn’t that a grand sight?”
I knew there was something to see, so I was soon up and dressed and sitting with Winthrop. I shivered with cold until my teeth chattered, but was well repaid for any inconvenience by the grandeur of the sight I looked upon. Why try to describe or picture anything so entirely impossible? The masses of fleecy white clouds, with the brightness of the morning sun shining upon them as they floated around and over the top of the mountain, made an ever-changing, beauteous panorama that I cannot describe. As the clouds rose higher and higher, they seemed to mass over the top of the mountain, as in benediction, glittering in the sunshine until they seemed to melt away.I waited until the sun had warmed the air, then mounted Dick for my morning ride. The McMahan train broke corral and drove into line just behind our wagons. I had only just started when Dr. Howard rode up on his pony Joe and requested the pleasure of riding with me. The doctor is a very pleasant, cultured gentleman, and is very fond of his pony, yet Joe cannot be compared with Dick for beauty, neither for easy gait. Why, Dick is the most beautiful pony on this road. He is a bright bay with long and heavy black mane and tail, and his gait is as easy as a cradle. I can ride all day and not be tired at all. While his horse—well, I will not describe him. It might hurt the doctor’s feelings.
We came to the foot of Elk Mountain, on the Medicine Bow, about nine o’clock. We find plentiful and excellent feed for the stock, so the captains have announced, “We will stay here until to-morrow.”
The doctor thanked me for the pleasure our morning ride had afforded him, and asked, “Can we not make up a party to climb Elk Mountain after breakfast?”
“I hope so. I will ask some of the young people.”
About ten o’clock a few of us commenced the climb. Lyde Walker, Nellie Bower, Cash and Neelie, Sim Buford, Brother Hillhouse, Dr. Howard and myself. We were well paid for the effort; we found beautiful wild flowers, and some wild strawberries not five feet from a snow-bank. The snow is in a ravine on the north side where the sun does not shine. The berries and flowers are on the bank of the ravine, high enough to catch the rays of the sun, facing the south. The view was fine; we could see a large white lake far away to the west. Dr. Howard said it was alkali.
* * * * *
Wednesday, July 19.
We passed the alkali lake this afternoon. It was a strangely beautiful sight—the water as white as milk, the grass on the border intensely green. I always thought grass would not grow where there is alkali, but it is certainly growing there; the contrast of white and green was vivid. The wind was blowing the water into little glittering, dancing skipping wavelets; the sight was so unusual that it was fascinating, though the water is so dreadfully poisonous.
There are several musicians in the McMahan train; Lyde says they serenaded me last night. She says they stood between our two wagons. I think she is trying to tease me.
“Ask Dr. Howard, if you do not believe me. He was one of them.”
“Oh, no. I would be ashamed to acknowledge I did not hear them, and would feel like a dunce if they had not been there.”
Dr. Howard gave me the bouquet hegathered on Elk Mountain, which was most beautifully arranged, and asked me “To keep it until it falls to dust.” I have put it between the leaves of a book and will perhaps never think of it again.
We came through Fort Halleck to-day. There were eight wigwams, or teepees, at the east end of the town; the squaws wore calico dresses and hoops. I believe they were more comical-looking than in their blankets. I fail as yet to recognize “The noble red man.” They are anything else than dignified; they seem lazy, dirty, obnoxious-looking creatures.
Cash and I made a few purchases at Fort Halleck. I paid eighty cents for a quire of writing paper, and Cash paid fifty cents for a can of peaches. Mrs. Morrison is on the sick-list to-day, and Delia Kerfoot has a very sore mouth—scurvy, the doctor says, caused by the alkali in the dust and air. Neelie and Frank are both complaining.
Thursday, July 20.
The ground was covered with a white frost this morning, and it is freezing cold. Mrs. Morrison and Frank are better; Delia’s mouth is healing. Neelie continues to drag around; she will not acknowledge that she is sick enough to go to bed, but she certainly looks sick. I wish they would call Dr. Howard; somehow, I have more faith in him; perhaps because he is older and more experienced.
We are on the banks of the North Platte; arrived about three o’clock, did not stop for lunch at noon. We came ahead of the other trains, which will be here to-night. We will have the privilege of crossing first in the morning.
The men have taken the herds five miles away to get good feed. They are in danger from Indians. The captain called for volunteers. My brothers both offered to go, butthe captain said, “Only one of Mrs. Raymond’s boys must go.”
Hillhouse said he would be the one. He was on guard last night, too.
We are in no danger here, for there are several trains here now and there will be more to-night. Oh, the anxious watching, the prayerful longing for day that we must endure this night, because of loved ones exposed to danger. What a precious privilege that we can go to the Mercy-seat with the assurance that if we ask aright our petitions will be granted. How do people live without Christ and a Mercy-seat? What can they do, when suffering anxiety, grief, or bereavement, if they cannot go to Jesus with their sorrows? Precious Saviour, what a refuge in time of trouble, what a joy to carry everything to God in prayer.
The McMahan train is near. Dr. Howard has been here; he begged me to let him see my diary. I asked to be excused.
* * * * *
Friday, July 21.
The night passed without alarm, and we are all here; I am thankful. Some of the men in our train were afraid to risk fording the river, and paid four dollars per wagon to be ferried over on a rickety old ferryboat that looked more dangerous than driving over.
Hillhouse and Winthrop were both engaged with the ox-team, Winthrop on the seat and Hillhouse riding Dick. When they drove into the river I motioned to mother to keep quiet and drove the horse-team right in behind them. The current is very swift; they had all they could do to keep the oxen from going with the current, and did not know I had followed them until they came out on an island in the middle of the river. Hillhouse smiled a sickly little smile, and said, “You should not have tried that.”
Dr. Howard stood near, holding his pony by the bridle. He complimented me on my skill in driving, and said, “I saw you drivein that swift and treacherous river with bated breath, but soon saw that you knew what you were doing, yet I rode Joe in just behind you to be ready for emergencies.”
“Thank you for your thoughtfulness. I will not ‘halloo until I am out of the woods’—the other side is to be crossed yet.”
Hillhouse said, “You would better wait on the island, and I will come back and drive your wagon over.”
But of course I could not do that, after all the complimenting I had received. I drove in—with fear and trembling—for there lay a big freight wagon upset in the middle of the stream. It was more difficult than the first side, the banks higher and steeper, and the water deeper. We got over without mishap; the doctor came on his pony just behind us. I wandered off alone after lunch and climbed to the top of a near-by mountain. I found there a large pyramid of loose stones that looked as if they had been piledthere by travelers, each one contributing a stone.
I selected a snow-white stone from the mountain-side and added to the pile. There is another town of wagons being made on the west side of the North Platte. The wagons have been crossing all day, and are crossing yet. Hundreds of wagons have been driven over that turbulent and rushing river, and not a serious accident occurred.
I have been on the lookout for the Irvine train, but it is not here. I think it is ahead of us, and we will not see the young ladies or Mr. Reade again on this trip, yet as we are all going to Montana we may perhaps meet again.
Saturday, July 22.
We are within sight of Pine Grove in Wyoming Territory.
Neelie was very much better this morning; almost well, she said at noon, and rodeher pony this afternoon. I was riding with her when I noticed a heavy rain-storm coming. I begged her to come on and not risk getting wet.
“Oh no, Miss Sallie; I don’t want to ride fast. This air is so delicious, and I think I want to ride alone for a while; you go on, and I will come very soon.”
I saw it was useless to urge her. I am always careful not to expose myself unnecessarily to a drenching, so I raced on to our own wagons and had barely time to unsaddle Dick and turn him loose when down came the rain in torrents. I was so anxious about Neelie and expected her to come tearing through the rain. I looked from the back of the wagon and saw her coming—plodding along at the same slow gait, as if she did not know it was raining. When the rain was almost over she came along—drenched, of course. She laughed at my look of dismay and paid no heed to my scolding. Mother and I both urged her to go quicklyand change her wet garments for dry and warm ones. She got off her horse and climbed into the wagon. When we stopped I went around to see how she fared. She sat in the wagon with a blanket-shawl around her, and the wet clothes had not been changed for dry ones. She was shivering with cold.
“Oh, Neelie, my precious girl, I am afraid you have killed yourself.”
“Oh, no, Miss Sallie; I am not so easily killed as all that.”
“But, Neelie, you have been sick for a week, and now to get this drenching. I fear the consequences.”
The family do not appear at all anxious, so there is nothing I can do but hope and trust that her naturally strong constitution may bear even this strain. I advised her to go to bed, drink hot tea, and get into a perspiration. I doubt very much if she will do it.
Milt Walker is on the sick-list, too. Hillhouse went to bed with a severe headachelast night, but a night’s rest has entirely restored him.
We crossed three very muddy streams to-day, the first muddy water we have seen since leaving the South Platte. Since coming to the mountains, the water has been as clear as crystal until to-day; perhaps we are coming into mining country. We stopped quite early this afternoon; the McMahan train has passed and gone out of sight. I hope they will not go too far, and that they will lend us protection with their portable engine and other machinery.
* * * * *
Sunday, July 23.
We are resting to-day. I went with Mrs. Hardinbrooke, Lyde and a gentleman friend of Lyde’s, for a long ramble over the mountains this afternoon. We found a most delightful spring where the water seemingly gushes out of the rock. Just below this spring was a patch of the finest wild onions I ever saw. We brought a good supply tocamp. We are so starved for green vegetables that everyone seems to enjoy the onions, though some had never eaten onions before, they said. For my part I always did like onions.
Monday, July 24.
We passed the summit of the Rockies to-day, and are camping on the western or Pacific slope to-night. The ascent has been so gradual we should not have known when we reached the top but for the little rivulets running in different directions. Quite on the summit and very near to each other we saw two little rivulets starting on their way; one to meander toward the Pacific, while the other will empty its confluence into the Mississippi, and thence on to the Gulf. Just a scoopful of earth could change the course of either where they started—from the same spring really. As it is, how widely differentthe scenes through which they will pass. So it is with human lives—a crisis is reached, a decision is made, and in one short hour the whole trend of our life is changed with regard to our surroundings, associates, environments, etc.
We came through Bridger’s Pass to-day, crossed a toll bridge near Sulphur Springs, and had to pay fifty cents toll for each wagon. The streams are all muddy that we have crossed to-day. We saw two beaver dams; they look like the work of man with shovel and trowel. We are camping two miles west of Sulphur Springs.
* * * * *
Tuesday, July 25.
We are camping near another muddy creek near a station that was attacked by Indians ten days ago; they wounded one soldier very severely and ran off with nine horses.
After we were in corral, while waiting for the stove to be set up and the fire to be made,I was sitting in mother’s camp-chair idling and thinking, when Neelie came to me. She dropped upon the grass beside me and, laying her head in my lap, said, “Oh, Miss Sallie, I am afraid I am going to be sick in spite of everything, and I have tried so hard to get well without sending for the doctor.”
Dr. Fletcher is desperately in love with her and tried to tell her so one day not long ago, catching her hands while talking, which she resented as a familiarity, and has not spoken to him since. She told me about it the evening after. It happened at noon. I told her I believed he was sincerely in earnest and that she had wounded him deeply.
She told me what she had done to try to cure herself; the medicine she has taken is enough to kill her. I called mother and told her what Neelie had told me. Mother said, “You poor child, you do look sick, indeed; you must go to bed and send for the doctor right away.” I went with her to the wagon, helped her to get ready for bed, and toldCash to send for Dr. Fletcher. She said she would as soon as Bush—her brother—came.
After dinner I went again to see Neelie; the doctor had not yet come, but Bush had gone for him. I stepped upon the tongue of the wagon and could, with difficulty, restrain an exclamation of disgust. Neelie interpreted my expression and said, “Cash just would do it; said I was looking so like a fright.”
Cash had powdered and painted Neelie’s pale face and crimped and curled her hair—and made her look ridiculous—trying to hide the sick look from the doctor. I did not answer Neelie, but went and scolded Cash; in a low tone she said, “She was so dark around the eyes, her lips blue, and her cheeks so pale I could not bear to have Dr. Fletcher see her looking so homely. She has told you about their little love-tiff?”
“Yes, but don’t you suppose he can see through that paint and powder? I am afraid he will think Neelie did it, and she will appearridiculous in his eyes.” I saw the doctor coming, so came away. As I was sitting here writing, he came a while ago and said, “Miss Raymond, will you sit with Miss Kerfoot to-night and see that she has her medicine strictly at the right time?”
“Certainly I will. Is she very sick, doctor?”
“She is in a much more serious condition than she or the family realize. It would not be wise to alarm her, but the family ought to know she will need very careful attention. I will tell them to-morrow. You need not sit up after the last dose of medicine is given, which will be at midnight. I think she will rest better if everything is quiet, and the lights out.”
I know from the doctor’s tone and manner he thinks Neelie dangerously ill. The doctor gave me directions about her medicine, and I went immediately to her wagon.
Wednesday, July 26.
Last evening as I was on my way to sit with Neelie I met Ezra. He said, “Miss Sallie, Sim is quite sick; very much like Cousin Neelie is, I think. I wonder if we are all going to be sick?”
“Oh, no; I hope not. I am very sorry Sim is sick.”
When I left Neelie—a little after midnight—sleeping quietly, to come home, I noticed a light in the wagon that Sim and Frank occupy. I did not awake this morning until everything was ready for a very early start. Mother had kept my breakfast warm by keeping the stove until the last minute. I sat in the wagon and ate my breakfast after the train had started. When through I climbed out and went to see how Neelie was. I found her feverish and restless; her symptoms unfavorable.
Oh, the dust, the dust; it is terrible. Ihave never seen it half as bad; it seems to be almost knee-deep in places. We came twenty miles without stopping, and then camped for the night. We are near a fine spring of most excellent water—Barrel Spring it is called. I do not know why; there are no barrels there. When we stopped, the boys’ faces were a sight; they were covered with all the dust that could stick on. One could just see the apertures where eyes, nose and mouth were through the dust; their appearance was frightful. How glad we all are to have plenty of clear, cold water to wash away the dust.
Neelie is no better. Such a long drive without rest and through such dust was enough to make a well person sick. I fear the consequences for both Neelie and Sim, for Sim is a very sick boy. Hillhouse told Sim last night that we would take him with us and take care of him, if he wanted to come and Mr. Kerfoot would let him. He wants to come, of course; so he sent for Mr. Kerfootthis morning to come to his wagon, as he wished to see him on business.
Mr. Kerfoot came, and Sim asked to be released from his contract to drive through to California. Mr. Kerfoot asked, “Why do you want to leave us?”
“I believe Montana is the place for a young man to go, and besides I am very sick and can have better care with the Raymonds than I can here, for Neelie needs all your attention.”
“I reckon your chances are as good as the rest of us have.” And walked off.
Frank came for me, and I went to see Sim; he is very sick, has a high fever and coated tongue. He asked me to see Mr. Kerfoot. Frank went with me. Mr. K. seemed to know what we came for; he was scarcely civil. I put the case plainly, and said, “We must take care of Sim, either with or without your consent; we owe it to his father and mother, and to himself, to see that he istaken care of. He cannot be taken care of where he is.”
After re-arranging the boys’ wagon and making room for Sim’s bed and other belongings; Ezra, Frank and Hillhouse helped him to the wagon and put him to bed, while I went to the McMahan train, which was quite near, and asked Dr. Howard to come and prescribe for him. The doctor came, bringing the medicine with him. He says it is mountain fever.
The separation of the train is being talked of, and is no doubt absolutely necessary, for the herd is so large it is hard to find pasture for them all together. When the division is made, those going to California will form one corral, and those bound for Montana will form another. This will separate us from Mr. Kerfoot’s family; I do hope we will not have to part while Neelie is so sick. I do so want to help take care of her.
* * * * *
Thursday, July 27.
Among the families that came into our train at Kearney was a family of four young ladies and their father—a widower—named Ryan. Sue, Kate, Mary and Maggie are their names. Mr. Ryan told some of the young men that he was taking his daughters to the west, where there are more men and fewer women, so they could have a better chance to get good husbands than in Missouri. It has been a good joke among the boys, and some of them have tried to be very gallant to the young ladies—as they are on the market.
George Carpenter, a driver for Hardinbrooke and Walker, when the train separated this morning, pretended to go into hysterics. He had a fit on the inside of the corral when Mr. Ryan drove off with the other half of the train. Mr. Kerfoot did not know he was fooling, and ran to his assistance; the captain passed, took in the situation and smiled. Mr. Kerfoot knew then it was a hoax, and itmade him so mad he declared he would not stay in a train where the captain would smile at such conduct.
The doctor had said to him, “It is necessary that I see Neelie several times during the day, and you will be taking great risk if you leave the train until she is much better.” He had decided to stay, and join the others any time before they came to the California road, west of Green River. He was so mad at the captain for smiling at Carpenter’s nonsense, and because he did not rebuke him, that he made the boys bring in the horses and cattle and hitch up as quickly as possible. In an hour after the others started they had followed. Mr. Kerfoot did not say good-bye to any one. I do hope Neelie will not suffer for his crankiness.
We are now a corral of twenty wagons, the greater number freight wagons; they are in corral on the opposite side, while the families are all on our side. The Hardinbrookes, Walkers, Bowers, Kennedys, Morrisons,Currys—a family of five—Mr. and Mrs. Baily and their daughter, about ten years old, and a widowed sister of Mrs. Baily and her little girl, about the same age as her cousin, are with us at the back end of the corral. I do not know these people, only just to speak when we meet, but they now help to form our corral.
We came only two or three miles after the train separated, just far enough to get out of the dust. Mr. Kerfoot’s family and ours have been almost as one family since we have been on the road, and I have become greatly attached to all of them and especially to Neelie. She is the dearest, sweetest girl, so very unselfish, and always ready to help any and every one that needs help. There is not one in the family but could be spared better than Neelie except, of course, her father. They all love her so, and depend upon her for everything. She is a precious daughter, a darling sister, and a true friend.
Sim is very much better; he has somefever, but not so high a temperature as yesterday. Dr. Howard is very attentive. He says it is mountain fever that Sim and Neelie both have. Dr. Fletcher called him to see Neelie; he says she is a very sick girl, but not worse than Sim was when he first saw him. Her temperature is not so high.
I wonder if mountain fever is contagious, or what it is that causes it? It seems the air is so pure and invigorating one could not get sick at all. I never felt better in my life, and mother seems so well. I am afraid it is the sameness of diet and poor cooking that is making Mr. Kerfoot’s folk sick. The bread they make is hard as brick-bats when cold.
Friday, July 28.
We came up with the other half of the train about ten o’clock, and have traveled in company the rest of the day. We have separatecorrals about two hundred yards apart; the stock is not herded together.
Neelie has been restless with high fever and flighty when she dozes; with eyes half open, poor girl she is certainly very, very sick.
We are near a delightful spring, cold as ice, and clear as crystal. I went to the spring to bathe my face and hands, and brush my hair. Mr. Kerfoot and Frank came for water. Mr. Kerfoot said, “Miss Sallie, why don’t you and your folks come and go to California, where you started to go?”
“Why, Uncle Ezra, you know the reason. We think Montana the better place for the boys to get a start, and we want to do the best we can for them.”
“Tut, tut; wealth is not the chief thing in life. You can make a living anywhere, and Montana is an awful place. Why, the only law they have is mob law, and if a man is accused of crime he is hung without judge or jury.”
“Notwithstanding, there seems to be agreat many nice people going there, and I am not in the least afraid of my brothers being accused of crime.”
“I do believe you will regret going to Montana, and I also believe it is all your doing that you are going. I think it is very unkind of you to leave us now when Neelie is so sick and needs you so much.”
“We are not leaving you, Mr. Kerfoot; it is you leaving us against the doctor’s orders, too.”
I made a great mistake saying that, he fairly raved; he was so angry, actually beside himself with rage. He said very unkind things without the least foundation or truth in them, and which I will try to forget. I am so sorry for him. I did not answer a single angry word, and I am glad I did not. But Frank did; he was about as angry as his uncle was, and talked manfully in my defense. He gave his uncle the lie, and clenched his fists and seemed ready to fight.
I ended the embarrassing scene by walkingaway. Mrs. Hardinbrooke was waiting for me; we climbed to the top of a very steep point, which was hard to climb, and we were out of breath when we reached the top and were glad to sit and rest. The view was fine, the evening pleasant, and we were glad of each other’s companionship, but we did not talk. I think Mrs. Hardinbrooke attributed my silence to anxiety about Neelie, and she was not far from the truth.
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Saturday, July 29.
Neelie was very much better this morning; her fever gone, she was very weak, but was free from pain. Her medicine had the desired effect. She had rested quite well last night—better than since she has been sick—and all her symptoms are favorable.
The doctor seemed greatly encouraged and told Mr. Kerfoot that if they would stay here until Monday he felt sure Neelie would be out of danger and they could move onwithout any risk of doing her harm. He did not dream that Mr. Kerfoot would again disregard his advice. Neelie continued better until noon, then some one proposed moving on a half day’s drive, thought it would not hurt her if they made only short drives at a time.
Mr. Kerfoot listened, and finally consented. He is very much afraid of Indians, and in a few days we will be out of the Indian-infested country. The doctor is very much out of patience with him, told me he gave Mr. Kerfoot a piece of his mind.
You must make big allowance for the poor man. He does not realize that he is endangering Neelie’s life; he cannot believe it possible that such a calamity as Neelie’s death can befall them while he is trusting in a merciful Father above. Yet I do wish someone might have exercised authority and prevented their going.
Sim is very much better, improving rapidly.Mr. Walker is able to be around once more. I wonder if he had mountain fever?
I have been trying to get the dust out of our wagon this afternoon; it was hard work taking everything out and cleaning off the dust. Lyde Walker pleasantly entertained us this evening with songs accompanied with guitar. The wagon the Walkers occupy is just in front of ours since the separation.
Sunday, July 30.
We came fifteen miles to-day, but have not overtaken the California train. It must be that Neelie is no worse, and their traveling yesterday did her no harm, or they would have waited over to-day; we shall hope so anyway.
Dr. Howard rode with me this morning. We are traveling on Bitter Creek, which is considered the very worst part of all the road. I had heard so much about the desolateness of this part of the country that Iexpected to find a barren waste. It is not so bad as represented. There are long distances where there is not sufficient pasture for the stock, but in places the feed is plentiful. The captain and two or three men are off the road the greater part of the day hunting pasture; we stop when they find it at whatever hour it may be.
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Monday, July 31.
We came twelve miles, passed one station; it was built of stone and seemed a very comfortable place. Mrs. Hardinbrooke has been quite sick to-day. I have taken care of little Annie. We have not had any word from Neelie. I trust that no news means good news. Sim was able to sit up in the wagon for a while this afternoon. I think with care he will be well in a few days. We have had delightful weather, since we passed the summit. The roads are quite dusty, but not like they were before we came to Barrel Springs. The water in Bitter Creek is not so nice asthe mountain streams and springs, but it is not bitter, as I thought it would be from its name.
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Tuesday, August 1.
We are at Point of Rocks, the place is rightly named; one who never saw them could hardly imagine such enormous piles of rock; they are high as mountains, with scarcely any dirt among them, the sides are smooth and even, the stone is soft like slate or sandstone, and the whole face of the enormous pile, as high as man can reach, is literally covered with names, dates, and places of former residence from all over the United States. I looked in vain for some familiar name. I left my name in a conspicuous place, so if any of my friends look for my name they will not be disappointed. There are springs flowing from the clefts in the rock; and oh, with what pleasurable anticipation did I hasten to partake of the pure water, as I, of course, supposed it was.
I had been riding with the captain as hecame ahead to find a camping place when the train came. I rode to our wagon, got a cup and crossed Bitter Creek to get a drink of nice, cold spring water. I took one swallow. Oh, oh, oh; the horrid stuff. I was glad there was no one with me to see the face I made. I think I never swallowed a more disagreeable dose. It was the strongest sulphur-water I ever tasted. In my haste and eagerness I did not notice that the atmosphere was impregnated with sulphur, and the sulphur formations around the springs, because they were covered with dust.
The wind is blowing as cold as Greenland. I expect we will have to go to bed to keep from freezing. Mrs. Hardinbrooke is no better; her symptoms are the same as Sim’s and Neelie’s were at first, and we fear she is taking the fever. Dr. Fletcher thinks Neelie must be better, or we would have heard, as Mr. Kerfoot said he would send back for him if she got any worse.
Wednesday, August 2.
We had a very cold night; there was ice a quarter of an inch thick this morning. Several head of Hardinbrooke’s and Walker’s cattle were missing this morning; the men have been hunting them all day, they were found this evening in a cañon four miles from camp; there were the tracks of two horses, with shoes, that had driven them there. The Indians do not shoe their horses, so there must be thieves besides Indians in this country. And here we are another whole day’s drive behind the other half of our train. Oh, I wonder if it will be possible to overtake them now, before our roads separate entirely. They must be at least two days ahead of us, if they have not been delayed.
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Thursday, August 3.
The mountains in this region are very barren, composed of sand and rock, principally.It comes nearer being desert than anywhere on the road. We have traveled all day, and have come only thirteen miles. The road has been very rough indeed. I rode in the wagon the greater part of the day, so I could take care of little Annie Hardinbrooke; her mother is very sick. I have thought so much about Neelie, whenever the wheels would strike a rock, or jolt down into a rut; how she must have suffered, if in pain or fever; how hard it must have been for her.
Lyde says Dr. Fletcher is very impatient and cross, because of the delay; he threatened to take a horse and go horseback yesterday, when he found the train would not move. She thinks he is very anxious about Neelie, and very much in love.