12th. Sunday. Not having a good camping spot we concluded to travel,
and made 30 miles, and reached Blue river. Here we found a large city
of tents, and preaching. There were probably 2000 men camped within two
miles of the crossing; and here we found wagons broken down last year,
with irons of those burnt. Voted two teams out of the train this
morning for disobedience of orders. The night was cold, but the day was
warm. We found some last year's graves, besides the usual amount of
dead horses. This point is called 120 miles from St. Joseph, but I
think it is more. Roads good.
Blue River, or as it is commonly called, the Big Blue, is a beautiful
clear stream, about eight rods wide, and at this time about three feet
deep. It is a favorite camping ground for California emigrants. It has
a skirt of timber, mostly cotton wood, from 8 to 100 rods wide along
its west bank, and generally plenty of grass may be found. Sometimes
however the emigrant is detained here for two or three weeks by the
high water, when his only consolation is in hunting antelope and wild
turkies, of which game there is an abundant supply on this river, and
in fishing. We caught a few small cat-fish after we had camped, but did
not have time to try the qualities of the stream for fish to any great
extent. This stream is in the Pawnee country, and consequently I would
advise all emigrants who hunt remote from the road and their trains, to
be on their guard, for the Pawnees are a very treacherous, hostile
race, and would not be likely to omit of an opportunity offered to
strip a solitary hunter and send him in minus his gun, clothes, and
perfectly naked, for they seem to be a people much given to such
practical jokes, as some who have traveled this road can testify.