Off early, pursuing our course up the Platte; valley wide and bordered
by high bluffs; at places they are divided by deep ravines, giving us a
peep at the background. Today one of our party had the good luck to kill
an antelope, and we had the pleasure of partaking of it for supper. The
meat is very sweet and tender, and after living for nearly a month on
salt pork, it was decidedly relishable. The Indians visit the road but
very little, which is not much regretted by the emigrants. Last night a
man came to one of our wagons who was in search of horses, which had
become frightened and ran away from his company. They lost nine, which
were all they had. This is a great loss. The grass is but little better
here than it was at Weston; the season has been cold and dry. Distance,
twenty-two miles.