vote for prohibition in the Constitution of South Dakota, for this is
not our field of labor.

The next scene is one which I shall long remember--our reception at a
mission home. Other homes may be happy and other people may welcome me
to their homes; but few--none that I have met--can welcome one so
cordially as Mrs. Riggs welcomed us to her home at Oahe. This is a
long-to-be-remembered experience. And after spending a week at Oahe,
meeting the teachers and pupils of the school, and the citizen Indians
there we started for our own home and work, Park Street Church Station.
This place has been the home of my husband for a year.

Crossing the Missouri is one of the first of our experiences. The team
and wagon are loaded on the boat, the men row a few rods, then the boat
stops. "Bar," remarks Mr. Cross, "got to tow;" when, horrors! "Is this a
missionary I see?" Mr. Cross is in the water, sometimes to his knees,
sometimes to his waist. Thus they tow the boat a half mile. From the way
they hold their breath the water must be cold. Well, it is October 10,
in blizzard-swept Dakota. But after two hours of work we are safely
landed on the west side of the river and soon we are toiling slowly out
of the _breaks_ of the river. After a ride of a few hours we come to a
creek with no water but plenty of wood. Here dinner is announced. This
is camping in earnest. This is not play. Camping in the East is
generally within sound of the cackle of the hen and the low of the cow.
But here you must live off of the land or out of your mess-chest. We
combine the two. Many hotels and families could learn a good lesson from
an experienced traveler and camper. In less than thirty minutes from the
time we stop, horses are unharnessed, fire built, prairie chicken
dressed and cooked, coffee made, table spread, blessing asked and we
busy with the tender and juicy chicken. This is the same order at each