I found opportunity to hire out to a pleasant-looking young Mexican as driver of a little two-mule provision wagon.  In this manner I earned my passage across the plains.  Don Jose Lopez, that was his name, said that I need not do much actual work, as he would have his peons attend to the care of the mules and have them harness up as well.  He also told me that we would have to delay our departure until every team present in the town had its cumulation of cargo.  They dared not travel singly, he said, for the Indians were very hostile.  In consequence whereof our departure was delayed for six weeks.  I camped with the Mexicans and accustomed myself very soon to their mode of living.  The fact that I understood their language and spoke it quite well was a never-ending surprise and mystery to them.  I took dally walks over the prairie to the junction of two creeks, a short distance from the town, bathed and whiled away the time with target practice, and soon became very proficient in the use of firearms.

The banks of these little streams would have made a delightful picnic ground, covered as they were by a luxuriant growth of grasses and bushes and some large trees also, mostly of the cottonwood variety.  But there were no families of ladies and children here to enjoy the lovely spot.  A feeling of intense uneasiness seemed to pervade the very air and a weird presentiment of impending horror covered the prairie as with a ghostly shroud.  The specter of a wronged, persecuted race ever haunted the white man’s conscience.  In vain did the red man breast the rising tide of civilization.  In their sacred tepees, their medicine men invoked the aid of their great Spirit and they were answered.

The Spirit sent them for an ally, an army of grasshoppers, which darkened the sun by its countless numbers.  It impeded the progress of the iron horse, but not for long.  Then he sent them continued drouth, but the pale face heeded not.  “Onward, westward ever, the star of empire took its course.”

We camped out on the prairie within a short distance and in full sight of the town.  I made the acquaintance of a merchant, Mr. Samuel Dreifuss, who kept a little store of general merchandise.  This gentleman liked to converse with me in the German tongue and was very kind to me, even offering to employ me at a liberal salary, which I, of course, thankfully declined.  One morning after breakfast I went to this store to purchase an article of apparel.  The door was unlocked and I entered, but found no one present.  I waited a while, and as Mr. Dreifuss did not appear, I knocked at the bedroom door, which was connected with the store.  Receiving no response to my knocks, I opened the door and entered.  There was poor Mr. Dreifuss lying stone dead on his couch.  I knew that he was dead, for his hands were cold and clammy to the touch.  I was struck with astonishment.  The day before had I spoken to him, when he appeared to be hale and hearty.  There were some ugly, black spots on his face, and I thought that it was very queer.  I did not see any marks of violence on his person and nothing unusual about the premises.  I looked around carefully, as a boy is apt to do when something puzzles him.  Then I thought I would go up-town and tell about this strange circumstance.