Then we laughed at the strange noise, and in a few minutes, the rain having almost ceased, we put on our rubber boots and went out to look after the other horses.  Old Browny we found in the lee of the sod house, not exactly asleep, but evidently about to take a nap.  The pony had pulled up her picket-pin and retreated to a little hollow a hundred yards away.  We caught her and brought her back.  By the light of the lantern we found that the great stroke of lightning had struck the curb of the well, shattering it, and making a hole in the ground beside it.  The storm had gone muttering off to the north, and the stars were again shining overhead.

“What a stroke of lightening that must have been to do that!” said Ollie, as he looked at the curb with some awe.

“It wasn’t the lightning that did that,” returned his truthful Uncle Jack.  “That’s where Old Blacky kicked at the lightning and missed it.”

Then we returned to the wagon and went to bed.  The next morning at ten o’clock we drove into Yankton.  We found the ferry-boat disabled, and that we should have to go forty miles up the river to Running Water before we could cross.  We drove a mile out of town, and went into camp on a high bank overlooking the milky, eddying current of the Missouri.

IV:  INTO NEBRASKA

We were a good deal disappointed in not getting over into Nebraska, because we had seen enough of Dakota, but there was no help for it.  A log had got caught in the paddlewheel of the ferry-boat and wrecked it, and there was no other way of crossing.

“Old Blacky could swim across,” said Jack, “but Browny would go to sleep and drown.”

[Illustrations:  Hats]

It is rather doubtful, however, about even Blacky’s ability to have swum the river, since it was a half-mile wide, and with a rather swift current.  In the afternoon we walked back to Yankton and bought the biggest felt hats we could find, with wide and heavy leather bands.  We knew that we should now soon be out in the stock-growing country, and that, as Jack said, “the cowboys wouldn’t have any respect for us unless we were top-heavy with hat.”

We were camped on the high bank of the river, opposite a farm-house.  It was getting dusk when we got back to the wagon, with our heads aching from our new hats, which seemed to weigh several pounds apiece.  Jack, as cook, announced that there was no milk on hand, and sent Ollie over to the neighboring house to see if he could get some.  Ollie returned, and reported that the man was away from home, but that the woman said we could have some if we were willing to go out to the barn-yard and milk one of the cows.  The others decided that it was my duty to milk, but I asked so many foolish questions about the operation that Jack became convinced that I didn’t know how, and said he would do it himself.  We all went over to the house, borrowed a tin pail from the woman, and went out to the yard.