Mary Sabin Powell's Story ... continued

page 14

Traveling in the Platte Valley was very pleasing. My little sister, aged four, usually walked beside the captain. "Come my little partner," said he, "let us begin our journey." Some days she walked eighteen miles.

During those days the thought upper most in the minds of every man, woman, and child was, "Oh! to reach the Platte." We could see the milky looking waters far in the distance. How long it took before we reached it.

One day we saw a speck like a cloud of dust miles behind us. The cloud kept moving toward us and increasing. Within two hours an immense herd of buffalo passed us. They did not seem to notice us in the least but moved right along solid and dumb in one great mass. They passed us with a steady trot and not one soul was harmed.
The next night we saw a few buffalo off alone. The men went out and killed one, again we had meat.

At last we reached the Platte. There was a trading post near by. Our captain asked the men at the post how much they would charge to ferry us across. The price they asked was more money than we had in camp.
The river was between two and three blocks wide. First the men took the handcarts across, then the women and girls followed wading. The water kept getting deeper and deeper. In the middle of the river it was under my chin. When we reached the opposite side we went right on in our wet clothes. We traveled thirteen miles more that day.
We crossed the Platte in several places. At Fort Laramie it was over my head. I started down stream. Bro. Oakley pulled me back. At Fort Laramie there was an encampment of sixteen thousand Indians, they were camped for a distance of thirty miles up the river. We camped near the river that night but without a fire.
The next morning we met five hundred Indians on the road. They were on their way to the treaty. Father presented some of them with beautiful peacock feathers. This pleased them very much. They stopped and looked at our handcarts. "Little wagons, little wagons," said they. How the squaws laughed.

When we struck the mountain region the paths became more rugged to our feet. I picked up pretty little rocks and put them in my apron. By the time my pocket was filled I had found other rocks still prettier. I threw away these and took them instead. I wish I could have saved some of the pretty rocks I gathered.

I was captivated by the beauty of a place called "Deer Creek". It was so charmingly sylvan with little groves here and there and a bright clear creek lined with timber. Said I to Father, "Let's build a little log house and stay in this place always."
"What would we do for food?" asked Father.
"Do as we are doing now," said I, "Go without."

A little farther on I wanted to go down into a certain green cove. The captain forbade and called me back. Just then three bears came out and ascended the flat.

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