Encamped again by Little Blue River, after a drive of fifteen miles.
This morning we met a young man in search of a pony, which had strayed
away from him in the night. He looked quite discouraged, and well he
might, as the lost nag was his only means of conveying his provisions
and clothes. They suspected the Indians. Presently we came up to his
comrades, where we found their things in great confusion, and the man
with them in a gloomy mood. But they were partially relieved by some
gentlemen who were there when we came up, who offered to buy their
things or carry them for them, as they might prefer. It looks hard to
meet misfortunes so soon, but many have had to submit to them, as is
apparent all along the route. Horses, mules and oxen have died, wagons
have broken down, and sickness fell to the lot of some. Some of the
teams have consumed all of their feed and begin to travel more
moderately. In this case they are compelled to go slow, as the grass is
very poor. Roads today good and scenery pleasant.