ere without becoming almost indifferent to any evil
chance that may befall themselves or their friends.

Shaw had a propensity for luxurious indulgence. He spread his blanket
with the utmost accuracy on the ground, picked up the sticks and stones
that he thought might interfere with his comfort, adjusted his saddle to
serve as a pillow, and composed himself for his night's rest. I had the
first guard that evening; so, taking my rifle, I went out of the tent.
It was perfectly dark. A brisk wind blew down from the hills, and
the sparks from the fire were streaming over the prairie. One of the
emigrants, named Morton, was my companion; and laying our rifles on the
grass, we sat down together by the fire. Morton was a Kentuckian, an
athletic fellow, with a fine intelligent face, and in his manners and
conversation he showed the essential characteristics of a gentleman.
Our conversation turned on the pioneers of his gallant native State. The
three hours of our watch dragged away at last, and we went to call up
the relief.

R.'s guard succeeded mine. He was absent; but the captain, anxious lest
the camp should be left defenseless, had volunteered to stand in his
place; so I went to wake him up. There was no occasion for it, for the
captain had been awake since nightfall. A fire was blazing outside of
the tent, and by the light which struck through the canvas, I saw him
and Jack lying on their backs, with their eyes wide open. The captain
responded instantly to my call; he jumped up, seized the double-barreled
rifle, and came out of the tent with an air of solemn determination, as
if about to devote himself to the safety of the party. I went and lay
down, not doubting that for the next three hours our slumbers would be
guarded with sufficient vigilance.

CHAPTER VIII

TAKING FRENCH LEAVE

On the 8th of June, at eleven o'clock, we reached the South Fork of the
Platte, at the usual fording place. For league upon league the desert
uniformity of the prospect was almost unbroken; the hills were dotted
with little tufts of shriveled grass, but betwixt these the white sand
was glaring in the sun; and the channel of the river, almost on a level
with the plain, was but one great sand-bed, about half a mile wide. It
was covered with water, but so scantily that the bottom was scarcely
hidden; for, wide as it is, the average depth of the Platte does not at
this point exceed a foot and a half. Stopping near its bank, we gathered