We soon left them far behind, and fondly hoped that we had taken a final leave; but unluckily our companions’ wagon stuck so long in a deep muddy ditch that, before it was extricated, the van of the emigrant caravan appeared again, descending a ridge close at hand.  Wagon after wagon plunged through the mud; and as it was nearly noon, and the place promised shade and water, we saw with much gratification that they were resolved to encamp.  Soon the wagons were wheeled into a circle; the cattle were grazing over the meadow, and the men with sour, sullen faces, were looking about for wood and water.  They seemed to meet with but indifferent success.  As we left the ground, I saw a tall slouching fellow with the nasal accent of “down east,” contemplating the contents of his tin cup, which he had just filled with water.

“Look here, you,” he said; “it’s chock full of animals!”

The cup, as he held it out, exhibited in fact an extraordinary variety and profusion of animal and vegetable life.

Riding up the little hill and looking back on the meadow, we could easily see that all was not right in the camp of the emigrants.  The men were crowded together, and an angry discussion seemed to be going forward.  R. was missing from his wonted place in the line, and the captain told us that he had remained behind to get his horse shod by a blacksmith who was attached to the emigrant party.  Something whispered in our ears that mischief was on foot; we kept on, however, and coming soon to a stream of tolerable water, we stopped to rest and dine.  Still the absentee lingered behind.  At last, at the distance of a mile, he and his horse suddenly appeared, sharply defined against the sky on the summit of a hill; and close behind, a huge white object rose slowly into view.

“What is that blockhead bringing with him now?”

A moment dispelled the mystery.  Slowly and solemnly one behind the other, four long trains of oxen and four emigrant wagons rolled over the crest of the declivity and gravely descended, while R. rode in state in the van.  It seems that, during the process of shoeing the horse, the smothered dissensions among the emigrants suddenly broke into open rupture.  Some insisted on pushing forward, some on remaining where they were, and some on going back.  Kearsley, their captain, threw up his command in disgust.  “And now, boys,” said he, “if any of you are for going ahead, just you come along with me.”

Four wagons, with ten men, one woman, and one small child, made up the force of the “go-ahead” faction, and R., with his usual proclivity toward mischief, invited them to join our party.  Fear of the Indians—­for I can conceive of no other motive—­must have induced him to court so burdensome an alliance.  As may well be conceived, these repeated instances of high-handed dealing sufficiently exasperated us.  In this case, indeed, the men who joined us were all that could be desired; rude