he oxen safe inside the enclosure, I slept in the
wagon.

William Buck and my brother Oliver were in a tent near by, sleeping on
the ground.

[Illustration: _L. A. Huffman_

A remnant of the buffalo herds that once roamed the Plains.]

Suddenly there was a sound like an approaching storm. Almost instantly
every animal in the corral was on its feet. The alarm was given and all
hands turned out, not yet knowing what caused the general commotion. The
roar we heard was like that of a heavy railroad train passing at no
great distance on a still night. As by instinct all seemed to know
suddenly that it was a buffalo stampede. The tents were emptied of their
inmates, the weak parts of the corral guarded, the frightened cattle
looked after, and every one in the camp was on the alert to watch what
was coming.

In the darkness of the night we could see first the forms of the
leaders, and then such dense masses that we could not distinguish one
buffalo from the other. How long they were in passing we forgot to note;
it seemed like an age. When daylight came the few stragglers yet to be
seen fell under the unerring aim of the frontiersman's rifle.

We were lucky, but our neighbors in camp did not escape loss. Some were
detained for days, gathering up their scattered stock, while others were
unable to find their teams. Some of the animals never were recovered.

When not on the road, the buffalo were shy, difficult to approach, and
hard to bag, even with the long-range rifles of the pioneers. But for
over six hundred miles along the trail, a goodly supply of fresh meat
was obtainable.

[Illustration: The prairie wagon used as a boat.]

CHAPTER EIGHT

TRAILING THROUGH THE MOUNTAIN LAND

AS the column of wagons passed up the Platte in what is now western
Nebraska, there was some relief from the dust. The throng was visibly
thinned out; some had pushed on beyond the congested district, while
others had lagged behind. The dead, too, had left room upon the road.

When we reached the higher lands of Wyoming, our traveling became still
more pleasant. The nights were cooler, and we had clearer, purer water.
As we gradually ascended the Sweetwater, life grew more tolerable and
discomfort less acute.

We were now nearing the crest of the continent. The climb was so
gradual, however, as to be hardly observable. The summit of the Rocky
Mountains, through the South Pass, presents a wide, open, undulating
country. Th