the canon, made its way
down into the valley, irrigating and fertilising the ground, until it
finally reached a large river, the Platte, flowing into the Missouri.
From this cataract our location obtained its name of "Roaring Water;"
but it was equally well-known as "Uncle Jeff's Farm."

Our neighbours, if such they could be called in this wild region, were
"birds of passage." Now and then a few Indian families might fix their
tents in the valley below; or a party of hunters or trappers might
bivouac a night or two under the shelter of the woods, scattered here
and there; or travellers bound east or west might encamp by the margin
of the river for the sake of recruiting their cattle, or might
occasionally seek for shelter at the log-house which they saw perched
above them, where, in addition to comfortable quarters, abundant fare
and a hospitable welcome--which Uncle Jeff never refused to any one,
whoever he might be, who came to his door--were sure to be obtained.

But it is time that I should say something about the inmates of the
house at the period I am describing.

First, there was Uncle Jeff Crockett, a man of about forty-five, with a
tall, stalwart figure, and a handsome countenance (though scarred by a
slash from a tomahawk, and the claws of a bear with which he had had a
desperate encounter). A bright blue eye betokened a keen sight, as also
that his rifle was never likely to miss its aim; while his well-knit
frame gave assurance of great activity and endurance.

I was then about seventeen, and Uncle Jeff had more than once
complimented me by remarking that "I was a true chip of the old block,"
as like what he was when at my age as two peas, and that he had no fear
but that I should do him credit; so that I need not say any more about
myself.

I must say something, however, about my sister Clarice, who was my
junior by rather more than a year. Fair as a lily she was, in spite of
summer suns, from which she took but little pains to shelter herself;
but they had failed even to freckle her clear skin, or darken her light
hair--except, it might be, that from them it obtained the golden hue
which tinged it. Delicate as she looked, she took an active part in all
household duties, and was now busy about some of them at the further end
of the big hall, which served as our common sitting-room, workshop,
kitchen, and often as a sleeping-room, when guests were numerous. She
was assisted by Rachel Prentiss, a mi