26th. Sunday. A part of our train concluded to lie over to-day, but the
majority being against it, produced a split in the train, owing to
which 10 wagons left us and drove on, leaving seven wagons behind. This
we consider no detriment, although the men belonging to those wagons
that left us are all of them whole-hearted, noble-souled companions.
Small trains travel faster than larger ones, and the difficulty of
finding good camping grounds for a small train is not so great as for a
large one. We were sorry to part with them, but we parted in friendship
and peace, as all ought to do on this journey. Some of them wish to
travel to Fort Laramie, which is 330 miles from Fort Kearney, before
stopping, but we wish to rest our horses one day in every seven, and
are determined whenever we can find grass to make that day the Sabbath.
We are all very busy keeping the Sabbath, which is done here after this
fashion: Exercises of the morning, shaving and cleaning with a plunge
bath in the Platte river. Forenoon, setting wagon tire, repairing
wagons. Afternoon, shoeing horses, washing clothes &c. &c. Evening,
rest--which is all the time we get to rest. Our stopping days are no
resting days to us, but our horses need it--they look well now, and we
mean to keep them looking well if we can. We have three blacksmiths in
our train, and one wagon maker. We set the tire on Ainsly's wagon this
morning in a manner that would be new to blacksmiths in the States. Not
having any means of welding tire, we took them off from the wheels,
took all the felloes off, and then put leather cottrells or rings on
the spokes, thereby raising the shoulder of the spoke and enlarging the
circle of the wheel, then put the felloes on again, and then heated the
tire, and set it as tight as the best blacksmith could do, with a forge
and bellows to cut and weld the ties at. This valley is lined with
buffalo bones and carcasses, their skulls lie about in every direction.
One of our men found 18 yesterday in one spot at the foot of a high
bluff. They were probably driven over the bluff by the Indians. We saw
no buffalo to-day, although there were plenty of signs, they appear to
come down to the river at night to get water, and go back to the plains
in the morning. The bottom is about two miles wide here, and on the
bluffs may be found some few scattering cedars. Litwiler killed a noble
buck to-day. Its horns were in the velvet, and the meat good. It made
us plenty of meat for the whole company, and some to spare. Saw a
beaver dam at this place.
27th. We struck our tents again this morning and started. We have had a
very cold day, so much so that we needed great coats and mittens, and I
have suffered more with cold than on any day since I started. We had a
smart shower in the morning, which was welcome. The country on this
day's drive looks like a huge buffalo pasture, the ground being covered
with buffalo chips like a farm-yard. The emigrants before us have been
slaughtering them without mercy. We counted eight fresh slaughtered
ones within one mile distance. We were informed to-day that McPike &
Strother's train lost 25 mules and horses in a stampede last night. We
crossed the south fork of the Platte this afternoon. It is about three
fourths of a mile wide here, which is the south or lower ford, but we
had to travel in the river at least a mile and a half, the wind and
current sweeping us down the river, so that our course lay in the form
of a half circle. The water was about up to our wagon boxes, one of
them taking water a little. This crossing is one of the exciting scenes
of this journey. When we crossed, the river was filled with wagons,
men, mules and horses, extending quite across the river. One of our
wagons got stuck in the quick-sand which frightened the horses, but
frightened the driver more. Being on horse back myself, I rode back to
assist the driver, but in our endeavors to start the wagon we had our
doubletree broken, owing to which accident I had to go ashore and send
back a spare team to help them out, but before the team reached the
wagon, and within a few minutes after I had reached the shore, the
driver came ashore, bearing in hand a tin lantern, that being (in his
fright) the only thing which he could find of value, to save out of the
drowned wagon, which, as he supposed, would be soon buried in the
quick-sand. However, after awhile, the wagon came safely ashore, when
the driver had the satisfaction of depositing his tin lantern in a
place of safety again in one of the boxes in the wagon. He did not
relish much being said after that about crossing the Platte, it was a
disagreeable subject, decidedly. Some of the teams were towed through
the river with long ropes, with 20 or 30 men dragging at them ahead of
the mules and horses, up to their middles in the water. One man was
riding horse back when his horse stumbled off from a sand bar into deep
water, and horse and rider both went out of sight; a dozen of us
started immediately for him, but before we had got to him, horse and
rider both came up, the horse making for the shore, and the man for the
nearest sand bar.--The man lost his rifle and hat, which grieved him a
great deal; the horse lost his rider, which he did not seem to take to
heart at all. We drove about two miles after crossing and camped on the
bottom, with no fuel but buffalo chips. A stampede took place about
sunset, of 150 head of horses, mules and oxen, which was the largest
stampede that we have seen or heard of. We were just cooking our
supper. Our horses were quietly grazing around the camp; the men
gathering buffalo chips for the night, or idly lounging about the
fires, talking and smoking, and taking as much comfort as possible
after our hard day's work, when down the river came a sound, as of
distant thunder, yet more terrible to the ears of the practiced
emigrant on the plains; instantly every man was on his feet listening
to the approaching sounds; faintly above the noise could be heard the
cry of stampede! stampede! and a dark mass enveloped in the dust could
be seen moving down upon us with the speed of the wind. Instantly every
man sprang for the horses, knowing too well that if they were not got
inside of the correll of wagons, before that moving mass of terror and
phrenzy came up to them they were lost. The cooks threw down their
frying pans, the men their pipes, and bags of buffalo chips, and the
whole plain looked more like bedlam broke loose than a quiet camping
ground; some shouted and belabored the poor beasts, who already began
to feel the infection, others lugged away at the long lariets of their
mules who dogged and sullen, threw themselves on their reserved rights,
and braced back on all fours with their long ears turned back and their
eyes half closed, seemed to say to the unhappy knights who were so
energetically tugging them along, no you don't--you can't come it, if
you do, just let us know, but in they had to go, in spite of their
resolution and firmness. During this time, which occupied less space
than I have been in recording it, the infuriated mass kept rushing down
towards us, sweeping everything of stock kind along with them that came
in their way. The matter began to look serious for us, although we had
succeeded in getting all of our stock within the circle of our wagons,
when suddenly, when within a quarter of a mile of us they look a turn
and went dashing over the hills like a torrent, and a few minutes after
them went 30 or 40 men on horses which they had secured, riding madly
on to keep in sight of the terrified animals; on went the mass, and on
went the riders, over hill and gully through the darkness of night in
their "break-neck" career, until they came to the North Fork of the
Platte, when fortune favored the riders, for the stampede took down the
river towards the forks of the two rivers. Excitement reigned through
every camp that night. Many had lost all their stock, their sole
dependence for the prosecution of their journey, or even their safe
return to the States. Families, men, women and children thrown out in
the wilderness hundreds of miles from civilized beings, and their main
hope gone. Would those in pursuit recover the horses? or would they
dash on over these boundless plains in the frenzy of fear, growing more
frantic as they proceeded, as many had before them, until nature could
stand no more, and then drop dead in their tracks? These questions were
often asked, and many were the tearful eyes that night that sought
without avail rest and sleep. All night long the darkness was rendered
hideous by the blowing of horns, firing of guns, and the shouting of
men to warn, if perchance any straggler from the pursuing party should
be on his return, of the whereabouts of the camp, and few were the eyes
in those camps through which the stampede had taken its course that
closed in sleep that night. The stampede continued down the river until
it was stopped by the two rivers coming together, which once having
checked their mad career, they were soon surrounded by the pursuers and
safely secured, with the exception of one horse, which had broken his
neck. Reader, if you wish to realize all the anxiety and horror of a
stampede, go out in the plains hundreds of miles from help, where your
horses are as necessary to your safety as the ship is to the sailor at
sea. See a moving body of stock coming down towards your horses,
snorting, neighing, bellowing and braying, enveloped in a perfect cloud
of dust, making the earth tremble under their feet: witness the
distended nostril, the glistening eye, and the fierce snort and neigh
of your own horse as you cling to him for dear life, and as he kicks
and plunges as the stampede approaches, and the madness grows upon him
to break from you and join them in their mad career--go out and see and
feel all these things, when perhaps your life hangs upon the result,
and then you may have some idea of a stampede; but otherwise you
cannot.