The second day, after marching for hours through vast herds of buffalo, we made Hackberry Creek; but not, however, without several stampedes in the wagon-train, the buffalo frightening the mules so that it became necessary to throw out flankers to shoot the leading bulls and thus turn off the herds.  In the wake of every drove invariably followed a band of wolves.  This animal is a great coward usually, but hunger had made these so ravenous that they would come boldly up to the column, and as quick as a buffalo was killed, or even disabled, they would fall upon the carcass and eagerly devour it.  Antelope also were very numerous, and as they were quite tame —­being seldom chased—­and naturally very inquisitive, it was not an unfrequent thing to see one of the graceful little creatures run in among the men and be made a prisoner.  Such abundance of game relieved the monotony of the march to Hackberry Creek, but still, both men and animals were considerably exhausted by their long tramp, for we made over thirty miles that day.

We camped in excellent shape on the creek and it was well we did, for a “Norther,” or “blizzard,” as storms on the Plains are now termed struck us in the night.  During the continuance of these blizzards, which is usually about three days, the cold wind sweeps over the Plains with great force, and, in the latitude of the Indian Territory, is weighted with great quantities of sleet and snow, through which it is often impossible to travel; indeed, these “Northers” have many times proved fatal to the unprotected frontiersman.  With our numbers the chance of any one’s being lost, and perishing alone (one of the most common dangers in a blizzard), was avoided; but under any circumstances such a storm could but occasion intense suffering to all exposed to it, hence it would have been well to remain in camp till the gale was over, but the time could not be spared.  We therefore resumed the march at an early hour next morning, with the expectation of making the south bank of the main Canathan and there passing the night, as Clark assured me that timber was plentiful on that side of the river.  The storm greatly impeded us, however, many of the mules growing discouraged, and some giving out entirely, so we could not get to Clark’s “good camp,” for with ten hours of utmost effort only about half a day’s distance could be covered, when at last, finding the struggle useless, we were forced to halt for the night in a bleak bottom on the north bank of the river.  But no one could sleep, for the wind swept over us with unobstructed fury, and the only fuel to be had was a few green bushes.  As night fell a decided change of temperature added much to our misery, the mercury, which had risen when the “Norther” began, again falling to zero.  It can be easily imagined that under such circumstances the condition of the men was one of extreme discomfort; in truth, they had to tramp up and down the camp all night long to keep from freezing.  Anything was a relief to this state of things, so at the first streak of day we quit the dreadful place and took up the march.