“Mounted on a fine horse, without a saddle,” writes Lieutenant Fremont, “and scouring, bareheaded, over the prairies, Kit was one of the finest pictures of a horseman I had ever seen.  He soon returned quite leisurely, and informed them that the party of twenty-seven Indians had resolved itself into a herd of six elk who, having discovered us, had scampered off at full speed.”

The next day they reached a fork of the Blue river, where the road leaves that tributary of the Kansas, and passes over to the great valley of the Platte river.  In their march, across the level prairie of this high table-land, they encountered a squall of rain, with vivid lightning and heavy peals of thunder.  One blinding flash was accompanied by a bolt, which struck the prairie but a few hundred feet from their line, sending up a column of sand.

A march of about twenty-three miles brought them to the waters of the majestic Platte river.  Here they found a very delightful place of encampment near Grand Island.  They had now travelled three hundred and twenty-eight miles from the mouth of the Kansas river.  They had fixed the latitude and longitude of all the important spots they had passed, and had carefully examined the geological formation of the country.

They were working their way slowly up this beautiful valley, to a point where it was only four miles wide.  Here they halted to “noon.”  As they were seated on the grass, quietly taking their dinner, they were alarmed by the startling cry from the guard, of “All hands.”  In an instant everybody was up, with his rifle in hand.  The horses were immediately both hobbled and picketed, while all eyes were directed to a wild-looking band approaching in the distance.  As they drew near they proved to be a party of fourteen white men, returning on foot to the States.  Their baggage was strapped to their backs.  It was indeed a forlorn and way-worn band.  They had, on a trapping excursion, encountered but a constant scene of disasters and were now returning to St. Louis, utterly impoverished.

They brought the welcome intelligence that buffaloes were in abundance two days’ journey in advance.  After a social hour, in which the two parties feasted together, the surveyors mounted their horses, and the trappers shouldered their packs, and the two parties separated in different directions.  Lieutenant Fremont mentions an incident illustrative of the homeless life which many of these wanderers of the wilderness live: 

“Among them,” he writes, “I had found an old companion on a northern prairie, a hardened and hardly-served veteran of the mountains, who had been as much hacked and scarred as an old moustache of Napoleon’s Old Guard.  He flourished in the soubriquet of La Tulipe.  His real name I never knew.  Finding that he was going to the States, only because his company was bound in that direction, and that he was rather more than willing to return with me, I took him again into my service.”