Sunday, August 28.
It was scarcely daylight when that hateful man was here again after
Dick. I had just finished dressing when Hillhouse came to the wagon and
said:
“Shall I let Dick go?”
“Do as you think best.” And I threw myself on the bed for a good cry. I
had not stopped crying when he came back, and throwing a buckskin purse
into my lap, said:
“There is your pony.” There was one hundred and twenty-five dollars
in gold dust in it. I sobbed out loud. Hillhouse looked at me with
contempt in his expression, but said nothing. I could not help crying.
I know he would never sell anything that he loved, and I love that
pony. I let the purse roll out of my lap down into the bottom of the
wagon, and have not touched it yet. Of course, I knew the wagon-bed was
tight, and there is no danger of its being lost. We came to Silver Lake
to-day. We are having a fine shower of rain, which we were needing very
much. It was some time coming, so we had dinner over and were ready for
it when it reached us.
* * * * *
Monday, August 29.
We have traveled to-day over Snake River desert, nothing but sand and
sage-brush. We watered at noon at a toll well, called Hole-in-the-sand,
and paid ten cents a head for watering stock. I wonder what we will
have to pay toll for next?
We are camping on Camel’s Creek. There is a family camping near us from
Bannack, going to the States. The lady is a sister of Mr. Esler, one
of the quartz kings of Montana, so she says; I presume everybody knows
about him, but I must confess I never heard of him until now.
His sister is taking his motherless babe back to its grandmother. Mr.
Esler’s wife died more than a month ago. The babe is about four months
old, and as sweet as can be. I could not keep my hands off it, and that
is how I came to get acquainted with its auntie. She is a great talker,
seems to think I am going to Montana husband-hunting, and volunteered
a deal of advice on the subject, especially I must not tell that I am
from Missouri, as Missourians are below par in Montana. She is from
New York. Oh, dear, it makes one tired to see a full-grown woman so
frivolous.
* * * * *
Tuesday, August 30.
We watered the stock at noon at Hole-in-the-rock. Didn’t turn them out
to graze, as there was nothing for them to graze on.
Mr. Bower has lost another ox, and was obliged to buy a yoke of oxen to
get his wagons over the ranges. There are two mountains to cross before
he reaches his home in the Madison Valley, fifteen or twenty miles the
other side of Virginia City. Of course, he had to pay a most exorbitant
price. Joe, our ox that was poisoned, seems as well as ever, except his
nose has peeled off as if scalded into a blister.
We are camping at the foot of the last range we will cross before we
reach our destination.
Mrs. Kennedy and I have become quite well acquainted the last few days.
She was a bride of only a few days when they started to the West.
Her husband drives one of Mr. Bower’s teams. They are going among
strangers, to make them a home and fortune. She is a very intelligent
and well-educated young woman. I do not know her husband very much.