rate fight for the revolver. We were both sometimes
struggling on the ground, then again on our knees, he repeatedly
striking me in the face and elsewhere, still accusing me of trying to
murder him. As I had no chance to explain things, the struggle went on.
Finally I threw him, and held him down until he was too much exhausted
to continue the fight any longer, and, having wrested the revolver from
him, I helped him to his feet. In trying to pacify him, I led him out to
where the object ran that I had fired at, and there lay the dead body of
a large gray wolf, with several buckshot holes in his side.

Stewart was speechless. Looking at the wolf, and then at me, he suddenly
realized his mistake, and repeatedly begged my pardon. We agreed never
to mention the affair to any one in the company. Taking the wolf by the
ears, we dragged him back to the wagon, where I picked up my gun, and
gave Stewart his revolver. I have often thought what would have been the
consequence of that shot, had I not killed the wolf.

Along in this vicinity, the bluff comes down to the river, and,
consequently, we had to take to the hills, which were mostly deep sand,
making heavy hauling. This trail brought us into Ash Hollow, a few miles
from its mouth. Coming down to where it opened out on the Platte, about
noon, we turned out for lunch. Here was a party of Sioux Indians, camped
in tents made of buffalo skins. They were friendly, as all of that tribe
were that summer. This is the place where General Kearney, several years
later, had a terrific battle with the same tribe, which was then on the
war-path along this valley.

My hoodoo wheel had recently been giving me trouble. The spokes that I
made of green oak, having become dry and wobbly, I had been on the
outlook for a cast-off wheel, that I might appropriate the spokes. Hence
it was, that, after luncheon I took my rifle, and started out across the
bottom, where, within a few rods of the river, and about a half a mile
off the road which turned close along the bluff, I came upon an old
broken-down wagon, almost hidden in the grass. Taking the measure of the
spokes, I found to my great joy, that they were just the right size and
length. Looking around, I saw the train moving on, at a good pace,
almost three-quarters of a mile away. I was delayed some time in getting
the wheel off the axle-tree. Succeeding at last, I fired my rifle
toward the train, but no one looked around, all evidently supposi