hidden; for, wide as it is, the average depth of the Platte does not at
this point exceed a foot and a half. Stopping near its bank, we gathered
bois de vache, and made a meal of buffalo meat. Far off, on the other
side, was a green meadow, where we could see the white tents and wagons
of an emigrant camp; and just opposite to us we could discern a group of
men and animals at the water's edge. Four or five horsemen soon entered
the river, and in ten minutes had waded across and clambered up the
loose sand-bank. They were ill-looking fellows, thin and swarthy, with
care-worn, anxious faces and lips rigidly compressed. They had good
cause for anxiety; it was three days since they first encamped here, and
on the night of their arrival they had lost 123 of their best cattle,
driven off by the wolves, through the neglect of the man on guard. This
discouraging and alarming calamity was not the first that had overtaken
them. Since leaving the settlements, they had met with nothing but
misfortune. Some of their party had died; one man had been killed by the
Pawnees; and about a week before, they had been plundered by the Dakotas
of all their best horses, the wretched animals on which our visitors
were mounted being the only ones that were left. They had encamped, they
told us, near sunset, by the side of the Platte, and their oxen were
scattered over the meadow, while the band of horses were feeding a
little farther off. Suddenly the ridges of the hills were alive with a
swarm of mounted Indians, at least six hundred in number, who, with a
tremendous yell, came pouring down toward the camp, rushing up within a
few rods, to the great terror of the emigrants; but suddenly wheeling,
they swept around the band of horses, and in five minutes had
disappeared with their prey through the openings of the hills.

As these emigrants were telling their story, we saw four other
men approaching. They proved to be R. and his companions, who had
encountered no mischance of any kind, but had only wandered too far