The Oregon Trail: sketches of prairie and Rocky-Mountain life by Francis Parkman
page 93 of 393 (23%)
page 93 of 393 (23%)
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there. Not one of their missing oxen had been recovered, though they had
remained encamped a week in search of them; and they had been compelled to abandon a great part of their baggage and provisions, and yoke cows and heifers to their wagons to carry them forward upon their journey, the most toilsome and hazardous part of which lay still before them. It is worth noticing that on the Platte one may sometimes see the shattered wrecks of ancient claw-footed tables, well waxed and rubbed, or massive bureaus of carved oak. These, many of them no doubt the relics of ancestral prosperity in the colonial time, must have encountered strange vicissitudes. Imported, perhaps, originally from England; then, with the declining fortunes of their owners, borne across the Alleghenies to the remote wilderness of Ohio or Kentucky; then to Illinois or Missouri; and now at last fondly stowed away in the family wagon for the interminable journey to Oregon. But the stern privations of the way are little anticipated. The cherished relic is soon flung out to scorch and crack upon the hot prairie. We resumed our journey; but we had gone scarcely a mile, when R. called out from the rear: "We'll camp here." "Why do you want to camp? Look at the sun. It is not three o'clock yet." "We'll camp here!" This was the only reply vouchsafed. Delorier was in advance with his cart. Seeing the mule-wagon wheeling from the track, he began to turn his own team in the same direction. |
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