s oozy bed. At times, too, they were obliged
to unhitch their team and help out of a mud-hole some other less
fortunate brother wayfarer, whose team was not so powerful as their
own.

One unlucky day, fording a narrow creek with steep banks, they had
safely got across, when they encountered a slippery incline up which
the oxen could not climb; it was "as slippery as a glare of ice,"
Charlie said, and the struggling cattle sank nearly to their knees in
their frantic efforts to reach the top of the bank. The wagon had been
"blocked up," that is to say, the wagon-box raised in its frame or bed
above the axles, with blocks driven underneath, to lift it above the
level of the stream. As the vehicle was dragged out of the creek, the
leading yoke of cattle struggling up the bank and then slipping back
again, the whole team of oxen suddenly became panic-stricken, as it
were, and rushed back to the creek in wild confusion. The wagon
twisted upon itself, and cramped together, creaked, groaned, toppled,
and fell over in a heap, its contents being shot out before and behind
into the mud and water.

"Great Scott!" yelled Sandy. "Let me stop those cattle!" Whereupon the
boy dashed through the water, and, running around the hinder end of
the wagon, he attempted to head off the cattle. But the animals,
having gone as far as they could without breaking their chains or the
wagon-tongue, which fortunately held, stood sullenly by the side of
the wreck they had made, panting with their exertions.

"Here is a mess!" said his father; but, without more words, he
unhitched the oxen and drove them up the bank. The rest of the party
hastily picked up the articles that were drifting about, or were
lodged in the mud of the creek. It was a sorry sight, and the boys
forgot, in the excitement of the moment, the discomforts and
annoyances of their previous experiences. This was a real misfortune.

But while Oscar and Sandy were excitedly discussing what was next to
be done, Mr. Howell took charge of things; the wagon was righted, and
a party of emigrants, camped in a grove of cottonwoods just above the
ford, came down with ready offers of help. Eight yoke of cattle
instead of four were now hitched to the wagon, and, to use the
expressive language of the West, the outfit was "snaked" out of the
hole in double-quick time.

"Ho, ho, ho! Uncle Charlie," laughed Sandy, "you look as if you had
been dragged through a slough. You are just painted with mu