and encamped on the Platte. The site was so densely covered with wild
marigold that we called the camp "Marigold Plain." We passed two Indian
villages to-day, the inhabitants of which belong to some of the tribes
that have been at the gathering to hunt buffaloes at the South Fork of
the Platte; having furnished themselves with winter provisions they are
now on the return to their usual grounds.
_September 3_ (Friday). We encamped near Scotts Bluff, having marched
twenty-two miles. It was an exceedingly tiresome march, owing to the
heat and dust. Several mirages were seen in looking down the river. We
passed two more Indian camps and met many Indians scattered along the
road, on their way to the West. An ox-train is corralled alongside of
us this evening, the wagon-master of which informs us that the Cheyenne
Indians are collected on the South Platte in such numbers as to render
them quite insolent, and that they have even attempted to force
wagon-masters of trains to give them provisions.
_September 4_ (Saturday). We pitched camp near Castle or Courthouse
Rocks, after having marched twenty-four miles. This has been a more
oppressive day even than yesterday.
_September 5_ (Sunday). We remained in camp. As fuel of every
description is scarce at this place the police party was sent out on
mule-back, with gunny-bags, in quest of buffalo chips.
_September 6_ (Monday). Our march extended as far as Platte Meadows,
twenty-five and a half miles. Toward the latter part of the afternoon
it began to rain, and has continued a dismal, dreary fall all night.
_September 7_ (Tuesday). We again encamped on the Platte, marching
twenty-two and a half miles. The mosquitoes were very troublesome
during the march, following us in perfect clouds--do all that we could
to present it, we were soon covered with stings.
_September 8_ (Wednesday). We marched twenty and a half miles and once
more encamped on the North Platte.
_September 9_ (Thursday). We encamped near Ash Hollow, a distance of
seventeen and a half miles. We followed the sandy bed of the Hollow
until we arrived at the point where the road leaves it and ascends a
high hill. Before undertaking the ascent, we unharnessed the mules,
turned them out to grass, and ate our dinner. Night found us crossing
the hills between the two forks of the Platte, beneath a steady fall of
rain. We were at last obliged to encamp upon the road, where no water
could be obtained; but we had anticipated this want, having brought all
the barrels and kegs that we could possibly muster filled with water
from the spring in the hollow.
_September 10_ (Friday). We pitched our camp on the south side of the
South Fork of the Platte River, concluding a march of eighteen and a
half miles. The crossing of the river was very different from that of
three months ago; we merely rolled up our pantaloons and forded the
stream, coming out on the other side perfectly dry, the water being no
place more than knee deep. We continued along the river about four
miles and then encamped.
_September 11_ (Saturday). We marched twenty-three and a half miles and
encamped again on the South Fork. We passed a mule-train which was
taking out the families of the Fourth Artillery and the Second
Dragoons.
_September 12_ (Sunday). We stayed in camp to-day for a rest. A few of
us got together and prepared what in this country is called a sumptuous
dinner--boiled tongue, fried bacon and beefsteak, liver and onions,
flap-jacks, boiled rice and chocolate. This feast being spread out in
tempting array on the ground, two or three of the men in the next tent
were invited to dinner and we gathered around it, sitting cross-legged.
In the afternoon the tent was converted into a wine press. Some of the
men had found grapes in their rambles and brought as many as they could
carry. Accordingly, putting all the empty cups into the service, we
pressed the grapes into them, mashing them with our hands. After
working indefatigably a couple of hours, staining ourselves from head
to foot and spoiling all the silk handkerchiefs we could obtain in the
process of straining, we procured about a gallon of grape juice.
_September 13_ (Monday). We encamped at Fremonts Spring, having marched
twenty-four and a half miles. This is a very poor camp site. The water
is stagnant, being found only in a slough of black mud, and fuel is
very scarce. The comet which was discovered June 2d by Donati was
rediscovered by us this evening; the appearance of the phenomenon was
highly interesting, as we had an excellent opportunity of seeing it
over our prairie horizon.
_September 14_ (Tuesday). We marched twenty-five and three-quarter
miles, and encamped near Box Elder Creek. The water is even worse than
at Fremonts Spring, and we were obliged to dig for some that was fit
for use. The mosquitoes being very numerous and bloodthirsty here, we
burnt an incense of buffalo chips in our tent this evening. Several
buffaloes were seen during the march, feeding, about a mile from the
road and almost at the foot of the sand hills which extend the whole
length of the river. They were too far off, however, to permit a chase.
_September 15_ (Wednesday). We encamped on the main Platte, after a
march of twenty-five and three-quarter miles. When we left camp, this
morning, a shaggy brute of a buffalo came very close to the company; he
soon paid the forfeit of his life for his curiosity, being shot by
Lieutenant Alexander. A short time afterward a small herd came close to
us. Lieutenant Alexander gave chase and wounded a fine, large fellow
that ran directly toward us. When he came within range a half-dozen of
us crept toward him, but at the first shot, being hit, he turned about
and ran in a different course. We continued the chase, but were all
recalled to the company except one, who followed the animal, firing at
intervals, and watched by us with intense interest. At last the buffalo
seemed exhausted and stopped, the hunter drawing near him. We saw the
man shoot and saw the beast leap into the air, then turn and charge on
the man who had fired at him. The whole Company started to his rescue,
loading as we ran, and the first few shots turned the buffalo toward
the hills, in which direction he bounded with mighty strides,
notwithstanding the fact that he was riddled with bullets. He was
finished later by some of the men with the train, and brought into
camp.
The valley, on the other side of the river, is literally black with
buffaloes. Soon after we made camp a large fellow waded leisurely
across the river, just in front of the camp, so that we were able to
get a near view of him. He was one of the ugliest of these ugly brutes.
Shot after shot was fired at the animal, yet he stood firm and
resolute, not a motion betraying pain or fear. There was something
noble in the manner in which he faced his persecutors, as though,
knowing he could not reach them, he could yet show them he knew how to
die. Suddenly he curved his tail, a shudder went through his mighty
frame, and he rolled over dead. The men waded out and cut him up. After
dark the wolves finished what the men had left.
_September 16_ (Thursday). We marched twenty-four and a half miles and
camped near Plum Creek. The buffaloes made their appearance in great
numbers; one small herd ran across the road, directly in front of the
train, which sudden charge frightened the mules into a general, though
short-lived, stampede. Nine buffaloes were killed to-day, only three of
which, however, were brought in.
_September 17_ (Friday). We encamped on the Platte River, after a march
of twenty-four and a half miles. It proved to be a severe march, the
day being hot and the roads dusty. Our canteens became empty toward the
latter part of the march and we suffered greatly for the want of water.
When we came within sight of the river the whole Company made an
unceremonious rush for it--never did water seem more cool and
refreshing. The number of buffaloes seems to increase rather than
diminish. The Company fired two volleys at one, which had the temerity
to approach to within point-blank range. He limped for a few hundred
yards with his grievous load of lead, then quietly lay down and
expired. At another time we fired by file at a herd, to drive it from
the road.
_September 18_ (Saturday). We arrived once more at Fort Kearney, having
marched nineteen and a quarter miles. Not one buffalo was seen during
the whole day, although there was a party detailed to hunt. Their
sudden disappearance surprised us considerably, until we learned that
the grass throughout the last twenty miles is of a kind that the animal
does not relish. We encamped in rear of the Fort, where the water is
most convenient. The man who was left here on the march out, Robert
Ayres, rejoined the Company, having completely recovered.
_September 19_ (Sunday). The day was given up to rest, which our weary
bodies much needed, as the fatiguing nature of the long marches and the
frequent occurrence of our tours of guard duty have drawn very largely
upon our physical energies.
_September 20_ (Monday). We drew rations to-day and made general
preparations for our start to-morrow. Darkness brought with it a
fiddler from the Fort, a real jovial "culluhed puhson," who was not so
much a violinist as a fiddler; who danced "Juba," "Jim Crow," and the
"Old Virginia Break-down," and sang all the Negro songs in the
catalogue for the edification and amusement of his numerous audience.
_September 21_ (Tuesday). We traversed twenty-two and three-quarters
miles of country, and encamped on the hills above Platte Valley. As we
feared the necessity of camping where water could not be found, we
nooned on the river before bidding it farewell. Our cooks made
preparations for soup, but discovered upon examining the meat that by
reason of the warm weather we would have to forego that refreshment. We
filled our water casks before resuming our march, and after a very
fatiguing tramp we encamped near a slough, which, together with what
water we had brought with us, supplied our necessities for this
evening.
_September 22_ (Wednesday). We reached the Little Blue River, after a
march of twenty-seven miles. The route was over the hills which border
upon the Little Blue; at the termination of the march we descended into
the valley and encamped on the bank of the river. Game has been
unusually scarce the past few days, but to-day a buffalo and some
antelopes were seen, although we did not succeed in obtaining any.
_September 23_ (Thursday). We encamped again on the Little Blue,
concluding a march of twenty-four miles. We passed a spot where a new
log building had not long since been commenced. Upon entering it a dog
was discovered lying on the ground, near some clothing saturated with
blood. We endeavored to entice the dog out, but neither threat nor
persuasion would induce him to leave his solitary tenement, all we
could elicit from him being an inquiring, mournful look which moved the
sternest heart to pity. We suspected that the premises had been the
scene of foul play, and upon further search a newly made grave was
found contiguous to the building. Later we were told that the man who
had owned the claim was murdered by a lawless gang of ruffians which
infests the neighborhood.
_September 24_ (Friday). Our odometer registered twenty-three miles.
Our camp is near a large elm tree, the only tree to be seen for miles
around, wherefore we adopted the name, "Lone Tree Camp." One or two log
houses were seen during the day's march, and we derived some comfort
from the fact that we are once more getting into an inhabited country.
_September 25_ (Saturday). We passed several very fine streams in the
course of our twenty-three-mile march, but encamped near a nauseous bog
from which we were forced to take water for drinking and cooking. We
crossed the Big and Little Sandy Creeks, at the latter of which we cut
a supply of wood, leaving the sick wagon behind to carry it. At the Big
Sandy we saw a very tasty log building, which, together with its
grounds, possessed an air of comfort lacking in many farms and houses
farther East.
_September 26_ (Sunday). We continued in camp, an arrangement that
accords very well with the dictates of our consciences, which become
the more sensitive the nearer we approach to civilization. At the close
of the day we sang some sacred songs--a sort of penance for the many
breaches of the Fourth Commandment of which we have been guilty during
the march.
_September 27_ (Monday). We encamped at Cottonwood Creek, after a march
of twenty-six and a quarter miles. To-day an arrangement was made which
conduces greatly to the comfort of the Company. An order was published
to the effect that half of the guard should ride half the length of the
march, and the other half of the guard the remainder; also that a third
of the Company should ride an hour, then to be relieved by another
third, and so on. This assisted very much in saving us from the fatigue
of steady marching.
_September 28_ (Tuesday). We marched twenty-four and a half miles and
encamped on Small Creek. We crossed the Big Blue River, by fording,
this morning, and halted there an hour for rest and to water the mules.
We then passed through Palmetto City, and found that since our march
through there, in going out, there have been added several more
buildings; the place has, in fact, begun to assume the appearance of a
thriving little village. The pleasure of entering a store was furnished
us, and we gave the astonished proprietors an unusual run of custom for
a few minutes.
_September 29_ (Wednesday). We marched and rode twenty-eight and a
quarter miles, and encamped on Big Nemaha Creek. The march afforded
nothing of note, with the exception of a watermelon frolic, which
occurred during a rest in front of a store. We were so elated at once
more coming within reach of fruit that the proprietor was quickly rid
of his stock of melons and cantaloupes.
_September 30_ (Thursday). We pitched our camp on Muddy Creek,
concluding a march of twenty-one miles. As there are several farmhouses
in the vicinity of our camp, this evening we had an opportunity to
enjoy the luxury of butter, milk, cheese, eggs, etc.--which good
fortune contributed not a little toward restoring us to cheerfulness
and good humor.
_October 1_ (Friday). Twenty-six and a half miles were left behind,
which brought us to the first branch of Grasshopper Creek. Very many
comfortable farms were seen, the grounds covered with thriving crops.
We crossed the third and second branches of Grasshopper Creek, and
Walnut Creek.
_October 2_ (Saturday). We pitched our camp below Mount Pleasant, a
neat little town about thirteen miles from Fort Leavenworth. The day's
march amounted to twenty miles. The road presented an unusual sight, in
that it was nearly all the way enclosed between two fences. When we
passed over this road on our march to Utah, scarcely more than a dozen
farms were to be seen, and those but lately commenced; now we are
astonished to see the country, for about forty miles from Leavenworth,
thickly settled with fine, thriving farms, neatly built houses, and
waving fields of grain, enclosed by strong, well built fences.
_October 3_ (Sunday). To-day we arrived at the termination of our
march--the goal that has been so anxiously looked for--and in the midst
of a general excitement in the meeting of friends, and the hurry and
bustle of unpacking the wagons and carrying their contents into our old
quarters, we took possession of our rooms, every one laughing and
talking together, exceedingly delighted to think our hardships at last
concluded. The evening was employed in ridding ourselves of the soil
and stains of our long march; the well-worn prairie uniform being
speedily cast off, and new articles of clothing, perseveringly
husbanded for this occasion, as quickly taking its place.
[End of narrative.]
* * * * *
NOTE: But a few days were spent at Fort Leavenworth before the
Company resumed the eastward movement, by boat and train, arriving
at West Point on the 12th day of October, 1858.
* * * * *
_Miles._
The Outward March 989
The Return March 1,028-1/3
Extra Marching in Work of Construction 62
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Aggregate 2,079-1/3