The arrival of two young ladies had been, as may be imagined, quite a godsend to the unmarried lieutenants, and when, tired of the journey, or intimidated by the snow, which fell eight inches on the 4th of October, Miss Brush determined to give up the remainder of her excursion, and accept our pressing invitation to remain with us until the return of her friends, we were looked upon as public benefactors.  She was now to accompany us to Green Bay, and possibly to Detroit.

Our voyage down the river was without incident, and we reached Green Bay just as all the place was astir in the expectation of the arrival of one of Mr. Newbery’s schooners.  This important event was the subject of interest to the whole community, from Fort Howard to “Dickenson’s.”  To some its arrival would bring friends, to some supplies—­to the ladies, the fashions, to the gentlemen, the news, for it was the happy bearer of the mails, not for that place alone, but for all the “upper country.”

In a few days the vessel arrived.  She brought a mail for Fort Winnebago, it being only in the winter season that letters were carried by land to that place, via Niles’s Settlement and Chicago.

In virtue of his office as Postmaster, my husband opened the mail-bag, and took possession of his own letters.  One informed him of the satisfactory appearance at the Department of the missing accounts, but oh! sad disappointment, another brought the news that my parents had gone to Kentucky for the winter—­not to any city or accessible place, but “up the Sandy,” and over among the mountains of Virginia, hunting up old land-claims belonging to my grandfather’s estate.

It was vain to hope to follow them.  We might hardly expect to find them during the short period we could be absent from home—­not even were we to receive the lucid directions once given my father by an old settler during his explorations through that wild region.

“You must go up Tug,” said the man, “and down Troublesome, and fall over on to Kingdom-come."[51]

We did not think it advisable to undertake such an expedition, and therefore made up our minds to retrace our steps to Fort Winnebago.

No boats were in readiness to ascend the river.  Our old friend Hamilton promised to have one in preparation at once, but time passed by, and no boat was made ready.

It was now the beginning of November.  We were passing our time very pleasantly with the Irwins and Whitneys, and at the residence of Colonel Stambaugh, the Indian Agent, but still this delay was inconvenient and vexatious.

I suggested undertaking the journey on horseback.  “No, indeed,” was the answer I invariably received.  “No mortal woman has ever gone that road, unless it was some native on foot, nor ever could.”

“But suppose we set out in the boat and get frozen in on the way.  We can neither pass the winter there, nor possibly find our way to a human habitation.  We have had one similar experience already.  Is it not better to take it for granted that I can do what you and others of your sex have done?”