have been two hours
hallooing at the top of my voice, until I was hoarse from the violent
effort.

Finally, while sitting there wondering what to do, I spied a blue smoke
arising from a cabin on the other side. Soon after I saw a man; he
immediately responded to my renewed efforts to attract attention. The
trouble had been that the people were all asleep, while I was there in
the early morning expending my breath for nothing.

The man was Shirley Ensign, of Olympia, who had established a ferry
across the Columbia River and had lingered to set over belated
immigrants, if any should come along. He came across the river and gave
me glad tidings. He had been out on the trail fifty miles or more and
had met my people. They were camped some thirty miles away, he thought,
and they would reach the ferry on the following day.

But I could not wait there for them. Procuring a fresh horse, I started
out in a cheerful mood, determined to reach camp that night if I could
possibly do so. Sundown came, and there were no signs of camp. Dusk came
on, and still no signs. Then I spied some cattle grazing on the upland,
and soon came upon the camp in a ravine that had shut it from view.

Rejoicing and outbursts of grief followed. I inquired for my mother the
first thing. She was not there. Months before she had been buried in the
sands of the Platte valley. My younger brother also lay buried on the
Plains, near Independence Rock. The scene that followed is of too sacred
memory to write about.

When we came to consider how the party should proceed, I advised the
over-mountain trip. But I cautioned them to expect some snow and much
hard work.

"How long will it take?" they asked.

"About three weeks."

This brought disappointment; they had thought they were about through
with the journey.

"You came to stay with us, didn't you?"

"I want to; but what about my wife and the two babies, at the island?"

Father said some one must go and look after them. So Oliver was sent
ahead, while I was to take his place and help the immigrants through the
Natchess Pass.

In our train were fifty or more head of stock, seven wagons, and
seventeen people. We made the trip across the divide in twenty-two days
without serious mishap or loss. This was good time, considering the
difficulties that beset our way at every step. Every man literally "put
his shoulder to the wheel." We were compelled often to take hold of the
wheels to boost the wagons o