"There they come!" said the captain: "let's go and see how they get
through the creek."

We mounted and rode to the bank of the stream, where the trail crossed
it. It ran in a deep hollow, full of trees; as we looked down, we saw a
confused crowd of horsemen riding through the water; and among the dingy
habiliment of our party glittered the uniforms of four dragoons.

Shaw came whipping his horse up the back, in advance of the rest, with
a somewhat indignant countenance. The first word he spoke was a blessing
fervently invoked on the head of R., who was riding, with a crest-fallen
air, in the rear. Thanks to the ingenious devices of the gentleman, we
had missed the track entirely, and wandered, not toward the Platte, but
to the village of the Iowa Indians. This we learned from the dragoons,
who had lately deserted from Fort Leavenworth. They told us that our
best plan now was to keep to the northward until we should strike the
trail formed by several parties of Oregon emigrants, who had that season
set out from St. Joseph's in Missouri.

In extremely bad temper, we encamped on this ill-starred spot; while the
deserters, whose case admitted of no delay rode rapidly forward. On the
day following, striking the St. Joseph's trail, we turned our horses'
heads toward Fort Laramie, then about seven hundred miles to the
westward.



CHAPTER V