In five minutes we had gained the foot of the hills, but here we came to a stop.  Old Hendrick was in the shafts, and being the very incarnation of perverse and brutish obstinacy, he utterly refused to move.  Delorier lashed and swore till he was tired, but Hendrick stood like a rock, grumbling to himself and looking askance at his enemy, until he saw a favorable opportunity to take his revenge, when he struck out under the shaft with such cool malignity of intention that Delorier only escaped the blow by a sudden skip into the air, such as no one but a Frenchman could achieve.  Shaw and he then joined forces, and lashed on both sides at once.  The brute stood still for a while till he could bear it no longer, when all at once he began to kick and plunge till he threatened the utter demolition of the cart and harness.  We glanced back at the camp, which was in full sight.  Our companions, inspired by emulation, were leveling their tents and driving in their cattle and horses.

“Take the horse out,” said I.

I took the saddle from Pontiac and put it upon Hendrick; the former was harnessed to the cart in an instant.  “Avance donc!” cried Delorier.  Pontiac strode up the hill, twitching the little cart after him as if it were a feather’s weight; and though, as we gained the top, we saw the wagons of our deserted comrades just getting into motion, we had little fear that they could overtake us.  Leaving the trail, we struck directly across the country, and took the shortest cut to reach the main stream of the Platte.  A deep ravine suddenly intercepted us.  We skirted its sides until we found them less abrupt, and then plunged through the best way we could.  Passing behind the sandy ravines called “Ash Hollow,” we stopped for a short nooning at the side of a pool of rain-water; but soon resumed our journey, and some hours before sunset were descending the ravines and gorges opening downward upon the Platte to the west of Ash Hollow.  Our horses waded to the fetlock in sand; the sun scorched like fire, and the air swarmed with sand-flies and mosquitoes.

At last we gained the Platte.  Following it for about five miles, we saw, just as the sun was sinking, a great meadow, dotted with hundreds of cattle, and beyond them an emigrant encampment.  A party of about a dozen came out to meet us, looking upon us at first with cold and suspicious faces.  Seeing four men, different in appearance and equipment from themselves, emerging from the hills, they had taken us for the van of the much-dreaded Mormons, whom they were very apprehensive of encountering.  We made known our true character, and then they greeted us cordially.  They expressed much surprise that so small a party should venture to traverse that region, though in fact such attempts are not unfrequently made by trappers and Indian traders.  We rode with them to their camp.  The wagons, some fifty in number, with here and there a tent intervening, were arranged as usual in a circle; in the area within the