." "If it hit Old Blacky, I'll bet a cooky it got
the worst of it," answered Jack, taking up his banjo again. "Look
out, Ollie, and maybe you'll see the lightning going off
limping."

It was still raining, though not so hard. Soon we began to
hear a peculiar noise, which seemed to come from behind the
wagon. It was a breaking, splintering sort of noise, as if a
board was being smashed and split up very gradually.

"Sounds as if a slow and lazy kind of lightning was striking
our wagon," said Jack.

Ollie's face was still white from the scare at the stroke of
lightning, and his eyes now opened very wide as he listened to
the mysterious noise. Jack pulled open the back cover an inch and
peeped out. Then he said:

"I guess Old Blacky's tussle with the lightning left him
hungry; he's eating up one side of the feed-box."

Then we laughed at the strange noise, and in a few minutes,
the rain having almost ceased, we put on our rubber boots and
went out to look after the other horses. Old Browny we found in
the lee of the sod house, not exactly asleep, but evidently about
to take a nap. The pony had pulled up her picket-pin and
retreated to a little hollow a hundred yards away. We caught her
and brought her back. By the light of the lantern we found that
the great stroke of lightning had struck the curb of the well,
shattering it, and making a hole in the ground beside it. The
storm had gone muttering off to the north, and the stars were
again shining overhead.

"What a stroke of lightening that must have been to do that!"
said Ollie, as he looked at the curb with some awe.

"It wasn't the lightning that did that," returned his
truthful Uncle Jack. "That's where Old Blacky kicked at the
lightning and missed it."

Then we returned to the wagon and went to bed. The next
morning at ten o'clock we drove into Yankton. We found the
ferry-boat disabled, and that we should have to go forty miles up
the river to Running Water before we could cross. We drove a mile
out of town, and went into camp on a high bank overlooking the
milky, eddying current of the Missouri.

IV: INTO NEBRASKA

We were a good deal disappointed in not getting over into
Nebraska, because we had seen enough of Dakota, but there was no
help for it. A log had got caught in the paddlewheel of the
ferry-boat and wrecked it, and there was no other way of
crossing.

"Old Blacky could swim across," said Jack, "but Browny would
go to