ces and in our
eyes, filled our noses, and encrusted our lips. Lieutenant Alexander
and Sergeant Pierce saw some buffaloes, and went out to shoot one; but,
provokingly enough, some mischievous Puck was officious enough to turn
them into oxen just in time to disappoint the hunters and to save the
lives of the animals.

_May 22_ (Saturday). We went as far as Little Blue Valley, twenty-one
and a third miles. We overtook an ox-train bound for Salt Lake, and a
difficulty arose concerning our passing them. The place was such that
we could not turn out of the road to pass, and those in charge of the
train did not seem inclined to hurry to a point where we could pass.
Argument was of no avail, and consequently we came into collision. The
battle was to the strong--the quick, furious plunges of the mules
proving too much for the sluggish pulling of the oxen. One of our
wagons got through, and then, by driving the leaders' noses against the
tailboards of the preceding wagons, all our train made its passage
through. One of the teamsters of the ox-train gazed with wild
astonishment at our harmless forge, and asked at last, "Are you going
to take _only one cannon_ with you?"

_May 23_ (Sunday). This turned out to be another day of rest--and, as
nothing could be found for us to do, we had our share in it, too.

Last night we were all awakened by the fury of a severe thunder storm.
The rain fell in torrents, and a little of it made its way into the
tents. The wind blew a perfect tornado. As we expected every minute to
be without a roof over our heads, and could do nothing to avert the
danger, we did the next best thing--sat down and smoked our pipes. The
lightning was blinding, and the flashes followed each other in constant
succession. The loud thunder rattled everything movable around us. But
the storm was too violent to last, and before our pipes were out we saw
the full moon in the sky, and the lunar-bow.

_May 24_ (Monday). Last night we were favored with act two of the play
begun the night before. The wind, hail, and rain raged with a fury not
a whit less severe, but again no damage was done.

We marched to the Second Crossing of Elm Creek, seventeen and a third
miles. The effect of the storm was to render our marching less
comfortable, the roads being very muddy and the grass dripping with
water, so that we were soon wet and muddy up to our knees. We came
across a couple of emigrants, near the close of our march.

_May 25