ay, through
which a fine picture of the blue peak showed itself down a dry valley,
a chimney rock in the foreground giving emphasis to the view. The
bluffs disappeared, and there was again the desert, and always the
desert, with its heat and dust. Our four shining black mules went
bravely on, however, and at five o'clock we came in sight of Fort
Laramie, a little brown spot far away over the plain. In less than an
hour we arrived at the post in a whirlwind of dust.

We were expected, for had we not followed the telegraph-wires? Utter
strangers as we were, at once we were made to feel at home, and
everything was done for the comfort of the weary travelers. A
description of this fort will do for all the rest, though this is one
of the oldest, largest and most important posts. There is no sort of
fortification whatever: a large parade-ground, nearly destitute of
grass and planted with half-dead trees, is surrounded by the barracks
and quarters, neat, low buildings, and beyond, at one end, are the
ordnance and sutler's stores. A hospital and a large old barrack
called Bedlam tower above the rest: more buildings straggle away
toward the Laramie River, where there is a bridge. The position
commands the river and bluffs. No grass, no gardens, no irrigation, no
vegetables nor anything green is here. One good-sized cottonwood,
perhaps coeval with the post, seemed as much of a veteran as the old
artilleryman, a character always pointed out to strangers, who has
lived at the post ever since it was a post, and is distinguished as
the ugliest man there. His seamed and scarred face looks as if it had
been through many storms and many Indian fights. Another distinguished
character is the pet elk, a privileged person, who abuses his
privileges by walking into houses and eating up hats, shoes,
window-curtains, toys--anything to satisfy his voracious appetite.

On the 14th of July we were off for Fort Fetterman. To our surprise,
the morning was delicious, though the mercury at noon the day before
had ranged at over 100 deg. in the shade. Laramie Peak was still in sight,
and was so, in fact, for weeks, till upon nearer acquaintance the fine
old mountain became a friend for life. The country was still wilder
and lonelier than that we had seen, and not a single habitation lay
upon our route. All had been burnt by the Indians. We followed at some
distance the right bank of the North Platte, all day over a barren
country of low hills and sc