Chapter II: Part 2

This evening our hunters, who were after game, returned with a young antelope and some long-eared hares--we had, consequently, quite an excellent stew for supper.

_July 3_ (Saturday). We were off betimes upon our new road, and marched as far as Pass Creek, thirteen miles. At the very outset we had three wagons obstinately stuck in mud holes, requiring two hours, at least, to get in motion again. We cut brush and boughs, to make a footing for the mules, and tied ropes to the wheels, and ourselves joined in the pulling. In this way we dragged out two of the wagons, but the other had to be entirely unloaded, the contents being carried about twenty yards, through mud knee-deep.

Our course ran through a deep ravine all the way, and we crossed four creeks, one of them a very difficult one. The banks were about five feet above the water, and densely covered by thorny bushes. The creek was too wide to jump, so we were compelled, _nolens volens_, to scratch our way down through the briers and then wade to the opposite side, where the scratching ensued again in climbing out. This nauseous smelling shrub, the sage, grows in great quantities. It makes our marching very disagreeable, being so stiff, gnarled and thorny, growing sometimes to the height of five feet and the largest trunks measuring from eighteen to twenty-two inches in circumference. Split and twisted, with a strong appearance of dead, dry wood, the bark resembles that of the cedar, being dry and shelly.

The day was exceedingly sultry and oppressive; the atmosphere was perfectly calm, not a leaf trembling, and the air seemed heated like that of a furnace, causing an unpleasant feeling of lassitude and a difficulty in respiration. The heat of the day was the more strange from the fact that ice was found this morning three-sixteenths of an inch in thickness.

_July 4_ (Sunday). We made one of the most fatiguing marches of the entire trip, and employed our minds in contrasting our celebration of the American Independence of to-day with that of last year. In no very pleasant mood, we made a march of fourteen and a half miles, and encamped on the North Fork of the Platte River. When we arrived at the river we found all the bluffs of sandstone, of curious shapes and colors, looking like stupendous churches or other buildings in various styles of architecture, surmounted by lofty minarets, turrets, spires and domes. At night, the scene might easily be taken for a city standing near us.

The road all through the march was about six inches deep with dust, and not a green thing was visible to cheer the aching eyes, half blinded by the glaring light which was reflected by the heated sand--not a blade of grass, nothing but sage, from one end of the march to the other.

One of our men shot a sage hen near the close of the march, and when we came into camp we set about to ascertain whether these fowls can be made into good food; a stew was made, but the word _good_ would be, I fear, a superfluity.

This afternoon First Sergeant Gerber took a party of men, the writer being one, and went some few miles up the river, to get a flat-boat which one of the guides informed us was hidden there. We found the boat, and as it grew dark launched it, commencing a passage down the rapid current of the Platte. We had not gone far, however, before the vessel upset, and the whole cargo of rifles and men was subjected to a cold bath. After some trouble in righting the boat the passage was resumed, two or three rifles and several hats making up all the losses that were sustained. But the members of the party also suffered considerable loss of blood during the trip, drawn by mosquitoes--they were so very troublesome that we had to wear handkerchiefs over our faces and gloves on our hands, and these were but a partial protection against their assaults.

_July 5_ (Monday). We commenced operations this morning by hauling our boat out of the water and repairing and caulking it, and covering it with canvas. We christened the vessel _The Sapper_, and I painted the name on the side. We launched the boat, towed it to the crossing and rigged up a rope ferry. All being ready we carried over two wagons, loaded with timbers, which are to start to-morrow morning, together with a party of men, to build a bridge over a creek.

_July 6_ (Tuesday). We began early to ferry over the train, and by noon had most of the wagons across. The party was sent a few miles ahead to build the bridge, and having completed that service returned to camp at night. We, for our part, carried over the last load about 5 o'clock, and then pitched camp.

_July 7_ (Wednesday). At reveille the Company was detailed into parties; one party as pioneers, equipped with axes, and another as pontoniers, to be left here to take down the ferry and then follow after the Company.

The pontoniers crossed over in the ferry, and after taking the rigging apart were obliged to recross the river on the pontons. We lashed them together, and packing on our ropes and tools, we made the crossing, using shovels as paddles. We left all the appliances of the ferry, that we thought the Indians could not steal, behind at the river for the use of the Infantry. We then packed the wagon, which remained behind for us, and, shouldering our rifles, we trudged on in its rear. A short march was expected, but we passed over two bridges that our men had built--they were strong and substantial structures--and continued on and on, without seeing anything of camp. Warm weather, dusty roads, and disappointed hopes rendered us extremely tired. A shower arose about 2 p.m., but proved to be more bluster than rain, making the dust on the road just moist enough to clog on our shoes. The breeze which attended the shower, however, proved quite refreshing. We at last found the train, after marching twenty and a half miles, going into camp at the foot of the Park Mountains, where we joined the Company in time to pitch our tents with the others. Part of the Company, together with the Infantry detail, was engaged in erecting a bridge over the creek at this place, which was completed before dark.

A corporal of our Company and one of Lieutenant Bryan's men were sent back to the Infantry, this morning, to leave a couple of wagons and the forge with them. They took three days' provisions, and were mounted on mules.

_July 8_ (Thursday). We marched fourteen miles. A portion of the Company went in advance, with Sergeant Wilson, to cut timber, and another, under command of Sergeant Vanderslice, to cut timber and build a bridge. The Company marched on, and, going through Bryans Pass, entered the long-looked-for Bridgers Pass, where we entered on a hill which is the dividing line of the waters, from which they flow eastward and westward. Excellent trout and other fish are caught in these mountain streams. There are no high, rocky mountains to be seen, and, I must confess, we were somewhat disappointed in the Pass. There is no vegetation except grass and artemisia, and the scenery is entirely too commonplace to satisfy our expectations of a pass through the _Rocky_ Mountains.

Some Indians were seen scouting about, of the Arapahoe tribe. And Sergeant Wilson's party saw two bears, but as their rifles were stacked some distance off the bears managed to make their escape.

Our camp is pitched among the sage bushes, infested with a tick or bug which we dread as much as centipedes or scorpions; a knife can not cut them, and there is no way of killing them except by burning. The nearest water is three-quarters of a mile from camp, and that scarcely fit to drink, the name of the stream, "Muddy Creek," plainly indicating the nature of the water.

This evening we unloaded all the wagons and took all the bodies from the running gear, in order to be ready to start early in the morning for timber.

One of the messengers who were sent back to the Infantry returned to camp this evening, our corporal having been left behind at the Platte, where one of the mules had been lost in crossing. They went back after the corporal this evening.

_July 9_ (Friday). We did not move our camp to-day, as twenty men were sent back twelve miles to cut timber. We spent nearly all the day in the woods, cutting fifty-four logs, each about thirty feet long and eighteen to twenty inches in diameter. We started back about 4 o'clock, but many little delaying accidents made it quite late before we reached camp. Some of our party fired the loads out of their rifles when we were near the Company, which alarmed the camp so much that all the men were turned out under arms, supposing that they were being attacked by Indians.

The Company was this morning divided into three squads, each assigned to a sergeant, to be kept by him during the campaign--each sergeant is to take his party for whatever service or duty he is given to perform.

_July 10_ (Saturday). Leaving the tents standing, as the sick were to remain here, we took the timber to where it was to be unloaded and used. Frequent recourse was had to shovels and picks on the trip, cutting down hills, filling up ravines, etc. We went about three miles, unloaded the timber, helped to pitch some tents, and then, the wagons having returned empty half an hour before, we of the new guard were obliged to walk back to the old camp to mount guard. But arriving there, we first put a new load on the wagons, then were given a half-hour to clean our rifles before guard mount.

There are seventeen men on the sick report, nearly all of whom are afflicted with mountain or sage fever. No doctor is with us, so we are forced to content ourselves with what medical advice a lieutenant's commission can furnish.

Sergeant Wilson's party is ahead, with the Infantry detail, laying out and constructing a road.

The writer was given charge of the compass and the odometer, with instructions to report daily to Lieutenant Duane.

_July 11_ (Sunday). Camp was moved about 10.30 a.m., and when we came up with the other two parties they struck tents and joined us. We went about two miles farther, and encamped on Muddy Creek. Our camp ground is rough, stony, and full of tall sage bushes, which we had to cut away in order to get room to pitch our tents. We are again besieged with ticks, mosquitoes and snakes during the day, and entertained by the howls of the wolves and coyotes at night.

An enormous rattlesnake was killed this afternoon--we cut up his snakeship and fried him, and several of us made a hearty meal, Lieutenant Alexander assisting. We found the meat quite sweet and delicate, so that all snakes that come near us hereafter will be in imminent danger of the frying pan.

The tobacco store was opened this evening, and we received our allowance of the same.

_July 12_ (Monday). At reveille the Company was divided. Forty men and two wagons were given to Sergeant Wilson. We found a great many places along the selected route which required improvement--there were hills to grade, stone walls to build, ravines to fill, and one bridge to construct over Muddy Creek. We were so busily employed during the day that we had no time to cook or eat, and when night came we were hungry enough to appreciate the cracker and piece of raw bacon upon which we made our supper.

_July 13_ (Tuesday). We arose early, our only reveille being the voice of the Sergeant, calling: "All hands ahoy! Let us early birds be out looking for the worm, for only the early bird catches him." We arose, had breakfast, and sallied out to work, leaving our tents standing and everything behind except haversacks and canteens, which were too necessary to be slighted. We began the construction of a bridge, but could not finish it on account of the timber not arriving. The Company camp was moved to-day to within sight of the bridge.

We enjoy ourselves vastly while on these working parties, notwithstanding hardships and privations. No roll calls, no guard mounting, no policing--nothing but peace and quiet from the time we quit work until we retire to sleep. We spend the evenings in joking, singing, and smoking.

July 14 (Wednesday). We arose at 4, and packed our rifles and accoutrements in the wagons, two men only in each of the four parties keeping their guns, in case we should be able to start up some game. We gained about eight miles on our journey to-day. Many deep gullies were encountered, requiring some time to be put into condition for travelling. A camp ground was selected among the Sand Peaks, outside of Bridgers Pass, and on Muddy Creek. It was within an hour of sunset, but as the Company train is to proceed some miles farther to-morrow, we were obliged to go a mile ahead, where an immense gully, about eighty feet wide, with sides about fifteen feet high, nearly perpendicular, was to be filled and graded. We all set to with a will, and finished this great bugbear of an undertaking within an hour. Sergeant Wilson received four days' more rations from the Company. The guides joined us this evening, as the country we are to pass over to-morrow is somewhat difficult.

_July 15_ (Thursday). This morning, as a long march was to be made on account of the scarcity of water, we were turned out at 1 a.m. Several large fires were built and we sat about them to eat our breakfast, after which, by their light, we struck tents and loaded the wagons. About 2 o'clock we assembled about the fire and made the surrounding mountains ring with the strains of the "Star Spangled Banner." There, in the midst of the wilderness, where the human form is but rarely seen, where the stillness of the night is almost painfully oppressive, where no sound is heard to break the spell of silence save the solitary howl of some disconsolate wolf, the shrill voice of the brooding owl, or the mournful, plaintive cry of the cuckoo--there did our voices swell out in harmony as we published to the hills our patriotic principles. And when, the chorus returned for the last time, and every voice was exerted to its utmost to do justice to the language, it seemed as though those very hills had caught the inspiration. As our voices ceased, and, for a moment, not a word was spoken, back from the distant hills came the sound, as of many voices, bearing the burden--

"O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave."

Three cheers were given for the invisible songsters, who as heartily responded.

Then we shouldered our tools and in single file followed the footsteps of the guide's pony into the darkness which surrounded us. All along the line jokes passed from man to man, laughter rang out in merry peals, and occasionally a song burst forth. All was joy and mirth.

Our course lay principally over an extensive plain. In the distance before us could be seen the irregular outline of the mountains toward which we are making our way. After marching eighteen and a half miles we came to our camp ground, and a most dismal one it is. No grass to be seen--nothing but deep sand and sage bushes; no wood nor chips to be found, and in their place only small twigs and sage bushes to burn; the only water that from a spring which furnishes poor water and insufficient quantities of that. The low ground about, which is all moist, is encrusted with nitrate of soda, magnesia, and potash. A severe storm of hail and rain occurred after we reached camp, and between mud and inconvenience our patience was sorely tried. But I believe, like "Mark Tapley," the worse the circumstances the jollier we felt.

The Company train came up and joined us this evening, and our tents were all pitched together. Our tools were turned in, as we are not to go in advance as a working party any more.

_July 16_ (Friday). We went only six and a half miles to-day, owing to so many places in the road requiring work. We encamped about a half mile from Haystack Springs, situated in a deep, rocky ravine at the base of the mountains, the name derived from three or four high rocks in the vicinity which bear a strong resemblance, in color and shape, to haystacks. The country over which we passed is rocky, rough, and densely covered with wild sage, through which we struggled at the risk of decorating the bushes with shreds of our clothing and staining them with our blood, which trickled from numerous scratches inflicted by the thorny branches. No living thing is found among these sage bushes except sage hens, a spectral looking hare, ravens, ticks, and ants.

_July 17_ (Saturday). We marched fourteen and a half miles and encamped at "Wolfs Spring," discovered by one of our Indian hunters, Wolf, and named in honor to the discoverer. Our camp is on the top of a very high hill, and the spring--the only place from which we can obtain water--is situated at its base, the descent being long, steep, and very rough. The water is pure, cold, and clear as crystal.

To-day a new disposition was made, a working party being detailed, and the remainder of the Company carrying arms. At every place requiring improvements the Company and train halted and waited until the working party was finished.

A fine, large buffalo was shot, and the tool wagon was dispatched to bring in the spoils. In the evening the game was divided.

Two expressmen, accompanied by Allen, our chief guide, left us this afternoon for Fort Bridger, to execute some important business and to bring back the mail.

_July 18_ (Sunday). In the morning a road was to be cut around the base of the hill. The task was accomplished by noon, the excavation being carried to a depth of seven feet on the upper side, through alternate strata of magnesian limestone and sandstone. We then struck camp and moved on, going only three miles, however, as water could not be obtained within nine or ten miles beyond this place, and it was too late to attempt to reach it. We camped at Banner Bluff, on Bitter Creek.

The bluff is a grand and curious geological formation, about twelve hundred feet in height, the side almost vertical and composed of alternate horizontal layers of protozoic and red sandstone, reminding one of the stripes of the American flag.

_July 19_ (Monday). We marched only ten and a half miles, but did not reach our new camp ground, which is again on Bitter Creek, until quite late, some obstacle or other presenting itself every few hundred yards to arrest our progress. The country was of the worst possible description, barren and sandy; the surface of the ground was baked to a hard crust, and broken by a network of deep fissures, some of them two or three inches across, resembling the gaps of a miniature earthquake. No vegetation, except a stunted growth of artemisia.

_July 20_ (Tuesday). We again encamped on Bitter Creek, after a march of fifteen miles. There is no improvement in the aspect of the country, although there was not so much labor, required in the construction of the road, the country being for the most part level or rolling. A great deal of poor coal is scattered over the ground, which is covered, throughout the latter six or eight miles of our march with a complete bed of these fragments, mixed with basaltic trap and a dark conglomerate containing an immense number of small shells.

To-day we were compelled to mourn the loss of one of our companions, who, afflicted with apoplexy, was left, a few days ago, with the Regiment. He died at 8 p.m. and was buried in his uniform, the Sixth Regiment escorting the body to its wild and lonely resting place, with the customary military honors. I, myself, carved the board erected at his head:

IN MEMORY OF WM. G. SLAYTER
Of Co. "A," U.S. Engineers,
Died July 19, 1858, Aged 27 years.

His was a frank and genial nature, and his many good qualities and cheerful disposition had established him as a universal favorite among his comrades. His death threw a gloom over our usually cheerful and buoyant spirits. This evening the camp was still. The customary song was not heard--no hearty peals of laughter rang out to disturb the solemn silence.

_July 21_ (Wednesday). We made but a short march to-day, the country over which we passed being unfavorable for the construction of the road. We encountered many deep gullies, which detained us a considerable time. Nine miles' marching brought us to another camp on Bitter Creek. About three miles from yesterday's camp we discovered the road that Captain Marcy made a few weeks ago. It was on the opposite side of the creek, however, and we could not form a junction with it, owing to the difficulty of crossing the creek.

_July 22_ (Thursday). This day brought us a very tiresome and fatiguing march to Sulphur Springs, nineteen and two-thirds miles. The sun shot down its melting rays with overpowering intensity, and, to add to our misery, no water was found that was fit to drink. The bed of the creek was dry, a misfortune that we did not expect, as the stream where we crossed it was quite deep. True, two puddles of stagnant water did present themselves to our longing eyes, but how grievous was our disappointment when, upon tasting, the water proved to be brackish and sulphurous. Yet, such was the thirst of our men, that some took a hearty drink of it, although the majority reluctantly resumed the march, looking eagerly in the distance as we reached the summit of each successive hill, to see if we could descry the sparkling flash of water. At the conclusion of our march several pools were discovered, near which we camped; but we found that these springs were also sulphurous. As we did not reach camp until dark our dinner was not ready until midnight, when all who preferred food to sleep partook of this most excellent cheer, by the light of a greasewood fire. Our teamsters, accompanied by the guard, were obliged to march a mile, after reaching camp, in order to get grass for the animals.

This evening the expressmen who were sent a few days ago to Fort Bridger returned, bringing with them our mail. We soon forgot the fatigue of the body in the mental joys of the intercourse with our absent loved ones.

_July 23_ (Friday). We marched sixteen miles and encamped on the bank of the Green River. Throughout the march, as yesterday, no water could be found that we could drink. Many of the men allayed their thirst by mixing molasses and vinegar. Vasco Nunez de Balboa was not more delighted at the discovery of the Pacific Ocean than were we at the sight of the cool, clear water of the river, to which we helped ourselves liberally. A rope ferry and a flatboat are kept here for the convenience of the Government troops and trains. We are once more favored with a grass bed instead of one of dust, and with white poplar wood for fuel, instead of buffalo chips.

_July 24_ (Saturday). We merely crossed the river, our train being safely moved by noon to the west side, where we pitched our tents, once more on the sand. In the afternoon a high wind arose, which blew the sand about in such quantities that we were obliged to keep within our tents. But no place was exempt from the general plague, even our boxes, when opened, being found to have their contents covered with fine dust.

_July 25_ (Sunday). We encamped on Blacks Fork, marching a distance of fourteen and a half miles.

_July 26_ (Monday). We marched seventeen miles farther, and encamped on Hams Fork. The emigrant road to Camp Scott was struck by us early in the morning, and we were greatly rejoiced to find our road-making duties terminated. The Emigrant Road is wide, level, and gravelly, and was quite pleasant to travel upon, especially for us who had been struggling through sage bushes for more than two weeks. Several parties of emigrants were seen slowly wending their way toward the Great Salt Lake. All had rough, uncouth wagons and poor, clumsy oxen--and they themselves were rougher than any part of their outfit. We crossed a bridge over Hams Fork, at which an infantry guard is stationed to protect it from the depredations of the Indians and Mormons. Several Mormons came to camp with wagons loaded with produce, for which they demanded extravagant prices. They were immediately surrounded by us, as much to see bona fide Mormons as to purchase these comforts and luxuries of which we have been so long deprived. We were soon involved in warm disputes concerning the justice of the Government and the culpability of the Mormon leaders. They appeared to be very intelligent, and evidently considered themselves a badly used people.

_July 27_ (Tuesday). We marched nineteen and a half miles, and encamped again on Hams Fork, which we were obliged to ford four times during the day. The country looks more fertile. We beheld, during the day, unmistakable proof of the severity of Colonel Cook's march of last winter, in the immense number of dead cattle scattered along the road. We counted over three hundred carcasses of oxen and mules, and in some places as high as ten, twelve, and fifteen in one group.

_July 28_ (Wednesday). We remained in camp, the Commanding Officer having gone to Fort Bridger to ascertain if any orders were waiting for him. This afternoon three companies of volunteers passed our camp en route for the States; they were composed, we were informed, of the teamsters who came out last fall and winter. They looked as though they had seen some pretty hard service, but strode along nevertheless with the determination, apparently, not to allow distance, inconvenience, or other influence to retard their homeward progress. They regarded us with an expression which seemed to say, "God help you, poor fellows! We pity you, indeed."

_July 29_ (Thursday). We moved out at noon, and encamped on Henrys Fork, four miles farther. Lieutenant Alexander and eight men, with wagons, left us before daylight to go to the Fort for rations. When we reached our new camp we found them already there, awaiting our arrival. The move to-day was necessary in order to obtain a fresh supply of grass, it being closely cropped by the cattle belonging to the ox-trains which camp along these streams. A wagon load of soldiers passed our camp, going to relieve the guard at the bridge.

_July 30_ (Friday). No march to-day. Our herd was sent about a mile up the stream, half the guard accompanying it, relieved at noon by the other half. The Infantry detachment, which we left behind a few days ago to await the arrival of the Regiment, joined us this evening and pitched camp alongside of us. The Mormons are again in camp with butter, eggs, cheese, and onions.

_July 31_ (Saturday). We remained in camp all day. No duty was required of us and we enjoyed a good rest, a luxury we have had but once since our start from Leavenworth.

_August 1_ (Sunday). We moved on this morning and encamped within a half mile of Fort Bridger. The Fort, as it appears to us from our camp, resembles an extensive camp more than a fort, and is not inappropriately named "Camp Scott." It is situated very low in a fertile valley, directly at the foot of the highest chain of the Rocky Mountains we have yet seen, and watered by an intricate maze of mountain streams.

This is the termination of our outward journey. We are a hundred and thirteen miles from Salt Lake City, and very eager to proceed--tormented with impatience by the dilatory movements, continually anxious lest a peace should be concluded before we reach Salt Lake. Day and night we are absorbed with speculation as to whether we will proceed to join General Johnston or receive orders to return to the East.

_August 2_ (Monday). A party of us visited the Fort. It is composed mostly of tents of all shapes and sizes. Attempts have been made to render them comfortable for the winter by covering them with two or three thicknesses of canvas. In front is erected a substitute for a piazza, consisting of a sort of entry or hall enclosed with wagon covers, while in the rear is seen a huge stack of mud blocks, arranged as though a fruitless effort was made to get them into some kind of symmetrical form, probably to represent masonry. We inquired whether these appendages were intended for ornament or use, and were informed that they were chimneys. The garrison consists of three companies, one of cavalry and two of infantry, which are now engaged in erecting four log buildings to be occupied as quarters during the coming winter.

The fort proper is represented by a wall about twenty-five feet in height and three feet thick, built of cobblestones, whitewashed inside and out. Within stands the commissary and sutler's stores, together with a confused mass of rude buildings, in the pig-pen style of architecture. The stone wall is flanked by two well-built lunettes, with a relief of about fourteen feet, the gabion and fascine work being substantially made and placed. In the salient of one of the lunettes is a small brass four-pounder, mounted in barbette upon a wooden platform. The ditch is enclosed with an abatis, which, considering the material and means available, is quite an achievement in the art of field fortification.

Great numbers of ox and mule wagons were corralled about the Fort, having come out in trains from time to time. But the oxen that once plodded their weary way before them have long since furnished food for the garrison, and the mules have been sent to Salt Lake Valley. When the wagons accumulate in such numbers as to form an obstacle they are burned, being rarely sent back East.

To-day is election day in this country, and although we have been residents of the place such a short time, we were besieged by the friends of the candidates and the candidates themselves, for our support. As there are but seventeen civilians about the Fort the majority of the offices are filled by soldiers. The ticket consists of one representative, three selectmen, one sheriff, one recorder, one assessor, one coroner, one surveyor, one stray-pound keeper, one justice of the peace and one constable.

A supply train of fifty-two wagons came in to the Fort to-day, of which half remained here and the other half proceeded to join General Johnston.

_August 3_ (Tuesday). The day was spent in putting in order the contents of our train, which had fallen into confusion during the march, and preparing ourselves either to continue into the farther regions of Utah, or to turn about and take a second view of those we have already once seen. Tools were, overhauled and assorted, account taken of expenditures, and clothing and other necessities issued.

_August 4_ (Wednesday). A day occupied in writing and reading.

_August 5_ (Thursday). The three men whom we left behind with the Sixth came to camp this afternoon, quite recovered from the fever. The Regiment arrived and encamped on the opposite side of the Fort; the remainder of the day and evening were naturally employed in mutual visits between the two camps.

THE RETURN MARCH.

_August 6_ (Friday). Farewell, Brigham! This time ill fortune has stepped between us. We had set our minds upon becoming acquainted with you, but we are reluctantly compelled to forego the pleasure. Farewell, ye Mormon dames! The fates have decreed that you are not yet to be released from your odious thralldom. This time Duplicity, in the garb of Peace--Evil arrayed in the robes of Amity--have triumphed, and Justice, with a mournful smile and a pitying tear, puts aside her sword and scale.

Such was the mental address which dwelt in our minds to-day, when we received orders to return with all expedition and resume our customary duties at West Point. The joyous prospect of meeting with old associations and once more clasping the hands of our dear friends was partially dampened by thoughts of the long, weary distance between us and them, and of the numerous hardships and difficulties which lie before us. We are to return by the Northern Route, through the South Pass and Fort Laramie, and as we are to start early Monday we are busily engaged to-day in making the necessary preparations.

_August 7_ (Saturday). To-day we finished our preparations for the march and devoted the remainder of the day to rest. Many changes were made in the personnel of the teamsters and other employees. As many of the teamsters of the commissary train desired to return to the States, they were sent to drive for us, and our teamsters were taken to supply their places, the Sixth Infantry being under orders to proceed to Oregon. One individual we parted with reluctantly, Mr. Dwyer, the assistant wagon-master of our train, a man of noble character and a great favorite with us. He was appointed full wagon-master in the Sixth.

_August 8_ (Sunday). This was hailed as a day of rest, on which we did nothing but think of the number of miles to be travelled before reaching our much-wished-for haven.

_August 9_ (Monday). We started upon our return march, encamping on Blacks Fork, a distance of eighteen and a quarter miles.

_August 10_ (Tuesday). We encamped on Blacks Fork again, after a march of sixteen and three-quarter miles. When we were approaching the bridge at Hams Fork one of our men, Bourcey, the blacksmith, was thrown from the forge, the mules having been frightened at the body of a dead ox lying in the road. His face was badly cut and it was feared he was injured internally, as the wheel passed across his breast. He was left at the bridge, in care of the guard stationed there.

_August 11_ (Wednesday). We reached the upper crossing of the Green River. This has proved a very severe march, owing to the heat and sandy road and to the length of the march, twenty-three and a third miles. About 9 a.m. we arrived at the junction of this road and the new one we made through Bridgers Pass. We reached the lower crossing of the Green River at about half-past one. There we beheld large heaps of iron scattered about near the river, a great deal of it imbedded in ashes; this, we were informed, was all that remained of the Government train the Mormons had destroyed at the commencement of hostilities. As the river was too deep for fording at the lower crossing, we continued to the upper one, where we managed to get safely across, the men holding on behind the wagons.

_August 12_ (Thursday). We marched nineteen miles and arrived at the Big Sandy Creek. A herd of cattle passed us to-day numbering nine hundred head; they seemed in good condition and gave us evidence of the plentifulness of grass along the route over which we are to pass.

_August 13_ (Friday). We continued the march to the Little Sandy, nineteen miles farther. The road was hard and gravelly, the day cool, with a bracing breeze, and we came into camp quite fresh and strong. Our camp stands upon the bank of the creek, where excellent water is available, wood convenient, and grass for the herd plentiful and good.

_August 14_ (Saturday). We reached Pacific Springs, having marched twenty and a half miles. The ground was rough and hilly, and the mules lagged a little. We like this kind of country best for marching, as we have longer rests before the train catches up at the end of our hour-long marches.

To-day we encountered an ox-train, the wagon-master of which had yeast-powders for sale. We purchased some with great alacrity, as we have been obliged to bake our cakes and bread without that ingredient.

The water here is found only in grassy springs and is not very pure.

_August 15_ (Sunday). We left camp this morning to make about a seven mile march to Sweet Water, where we could find good grass and water, but the march was drawn out to the length of twenty-three and a half miles. We went through the South Pass, which is hardly deserving the name of a pass, being nothing but a valley between hills. The Wind River Mountains have been in sight all day, presenting, with their irregular outlines, an imposing appearance. They are high and rocky, with little or no vegetation.

Our camp to-night is on a branch of Sweet Water Creek.

_August 16_ (Monday). We remained in camp, enjoying a rest from the fatigue of marching.

_August 17_ (Tuesday). We reached Sweet Water Creek, after a march of twenty-three miles, during which we passed over a ridge of hills called the "Devils Backbone." It was a very oppressive day, owing to the heat and dust.

We met a contented looking family of emigrants, moving slowly westward. They were quite surprised to see us and seemed to think we were going the wrong way.

_August 18_ (Wednesday). We again encamped on Sweet Water Creek, a distance of twenty-two and a quarter miles. A number of officers of the Tenth Infantry, going to the States on leave of absence, stopped at our camp, and went on in advance with our officers. When we reached our new camp they were comfortably enjoying a prairie siesta.

_August 19_ (Thursday). Seventeen and a half miles were traversed in to-day's march, which was characterized by many interesting features. The Rattlesnake Mountains, through which the whole march lay, are very high and rocky, but instead of being a continuous chain they stand separate from each other, allowing the road to wind a comparatively level course between them. We passed through Rattlesnake Pass, a very wild, craggy gorge between the first peaks, the rocks and stones along its precipitous sides thickly lettered over with rude attempts of ambitious persons to hand down their names to posterity. Toward the close of the march we passed through Sweet Water Canyon, the most sublime spectacle we have yet witnessed. The coolness of this delightful spot was a strong inducement for lingering, but duty pointed us over the barren prairie again, and very reluctantly we left Sweet Water Canyon behind.

We passed the Fourth Column, consisting of four companies of the Seventh Infantry and a company of Cavalry, commanded by Colonel Morrison.

_August 20_ (Friday). We moved on to the Devils Gate, a distance of twenty and a half miles. The route lay principally along Sweet Water Creek, the sight of which, its banks covered by a luxuriant growth of grass, was very welcome to our eyes; and the road, too, instead of being dusty, was hard and well beaten.

Company F, Seventh Infantry, passed us to-day, escorting the families of some of the men of the Sixth Infantry. We also saw a large trading post during the march, for the benefit of the neighboring tribes of Indians and profit of the Canadian-French proprietor. It was, as is usual with trading posts, surrounded by a number of Indian wigwams, the denizens of which were lazily lolling in the sun.

_August 21_ (Saturday). At reveille all who wished to go through the Devils Gate were requested to step to the front; the whole Company unanimously presented themselves for a visit to his Satanic Majesty's portals. The Gate is a gorge between the mountains, which, apparently, have been parted for the express purpose of giving passage to the waters of Sweet Water Creek. On one side the massive rocks rise to a height of three hundred feet, projecting almost across the gap; at this part a deep, black fissure starts from the bottom and ascends to the very top, resembling a chimney; the gap about eighty feet wide, the bottom covered with large boulders. We scrambled into every accessible nook and corner, yelling and shouting like maniacs.

We went on to Greasewood Creek, marching twenty-one and three-quarter miles. Another large trading post was seen to-day, kept by Louis Greenyard; it is said to be the most extensive post along the route. Mr. Greenyard has erected a bridge across the stream at this place.

_August 22_ (Sunday). We marched twenty-three and a quarter miles and encamped on the banks of the North Fork of the Platte River. As on last Sunday, we broke camp to move only a few miles to obtain grass for the herd; but we made a long march, nevertheless. The route lay over a very hilly and rocky country. At one time we would be gazing from the top of a high hill, at another winding across the bottom of a barren, dusty valley. The road was sandy and the water scarce. We hailed the view of the North Fork with acclamations of joy. At our camp a trading and mail post is stationed, and a little below stands an Arapahoe Indian village, the inhabitants of which soon turned out to visit us.

_August 23_ (Monday). We did not move camp, but adopted this as a day of rest. The Indians, no doubt, thought we stayed in order to give them an opportunity of making acquaintance, which they set about doing in a very indefatigable manner, greatly to our annoyance, for they are a filthy, indolent tribe. We were obliged to remain in or near our tents all day, to keep them out, not through fear of their taking anything, for they appear to be honest, but for fear of their leaving vermin behind.

_August 24_ (Tuesday). We encamped on Little Muddy Creek, after a march of eighteen and a half miles. We followed the course of the river a few miles, over a very uneven road. One hill was so steep that the ordinary teams could not draw the wagons; we were forced to double the teams, take half the train up first and then return for the remainder. We passed the Fifth Column this morning, composed of Companies A and D, Seventh Infantry, and a company of the Third Artillery, with a long train. The Sixth Column then passed us, Companies I and E of the Seventh Infantry and two companies of Cavalry, having under their protection a number of emigrant wagons going to Salt Lake, the emigrants being principally Danes and Germans.

About two miles below where we are encamped this evening a bridge is built across the Platte and left in charge of two companies of the Fourth Artillery.

A travelling grocery store came into camp this evening, a vehicle built after the manner of a stage, and quite as ornamentally painted. The usual commodities sold in Western stores were retailed at very moderate prices from this fancy curiosity shop. As soon as custom began to lag, the proprietor closed up shop and, whipping up his oxen, started in search of a new location.

_August 25_ (Wednesday). We marched twenty-two miles, which brought us to Deer Creek. The country is now assuming a very interesting appearance to us, at least, who have been so long in the wilderness. Our camp-ground, to-night, is a veritable flower garden; the fields yellow with flowers, the green trees, the white, sandy banks of the river, and the river itself, form a very beautiful spectacle. A village, containing about a dozen log houses and Indian huts, stands close by our camp. It is called "Dacotah City," and the inhabitants are French and Indians.

_August 26_ (Thursday). Having marched eighteen and a quarter miles, we camped on La Prele Creek. At Box Elder Creek we stopped at noon. The mules were turned out to feed on the fine crop of grass, and the cooks prepared our dinner. After two or three hours' rest we again took up our march.

_August 27_ (Friday). We encamped on La Bonte Creek, after a march of eighteen miles. The country seems to undergo a general improvement as we approach Fort Laramie. Toward the close of the march Laramie Peak came into view.

_August 28_ (Saturday). Our camp was pitched on Horseshoe Creek, concluding a march of twenty-three and a half miles. A great deal of timber was seen and we passed through several romantic looking glens and ravines. The weather seemed mild and many of us rolled ourselves in our blankets and, throwing ourselves upon the ground by the fires, were soon lulled to sleep by the prairie serenaders--wolves, buffaloes, owls, whippoorwills, and coyotes. But during the night the fires became extinguished, and, a dense fog having arisen, our blankets were saturated with water when we awoke.

_August 29_ (Sunday). We reached Bitter Cottonwood Creek after a march of eighteen and a quarter miles. During most of the forenoon a thick fog enveloped the country, effectually veiling the surrounding scenery from our view--much to our annoyance, as we were expecting to come within sight of Fort Laramie on this or to-morrow's march. We passed several Indian lodges in the morning, from which a few dusky warriors issued forth to greet us with the well-known words of welcome, "How! How!" This evening our guide went ahead to the Fort, intending to return to-morrow in order to direct us by a short cut.

_August 30_ (Monday). After marching twenty-one miles we entered the long desired Fort Laramie. We again struck the Platte River shortly after breaking camp. The whole road from Fort Bridger to Fort Laramie has been infested with a nuisance in the shape of dead cattle. Not one day's march have we made since leaving Fort Bridger that we are not obliged to pass by many of these disgusting objects. We were informed by a teamster of an ox train that one wagon-master had lost fifty cattle in one night, with the bloody murrain, an epidemic which prevails among the cattle in these regions to an alarming extent.

Our camp to-night is on the Laramie River, about half a mile below the Fort.

_August 31_ (Tuesday). We prepared for muster, which took place at 8 a.m., the Company being mustered by our own Commanding Officer. The Indians are about in great numbers, hanging around the camp all day, begging for food and carrying away the offal which is left after killing our beef. Several old crones and children have been scratching in the grass, from daylight until dark, collecting the grains of corn which the mules had left. At one of their villages across the river they have been lamenting the demise of one of their tribe; they commence their orgies at dusk with a low, plaintive wail, which they gradually increase in volume until it becomes a wild, furious chant, occasionally interrupted by dismal shrieks.

_September 1_ (Wednesday). The day was spent in preparing to resume our march, rations being drawn and many articles, including the forge, being turned over to the Quartermaster at the Fort. Some teamsters were discharged and others engaged in their places.

_September 2_ (Thursday). We marched twenty-three and a quarter miles, and encamped on the Platte. The site was so densely covered with wild marigold that we called the camp "Marigold Plain." We passed two Indian villages to-day, the inhabitants of which belong to some of the tribes that have been at the gathering to hunt buffaloes at the South Fork of the Platte; having furnished themselves with winter provisions they are now on the return to their usual grounds.

_September 3_ (Friday). We encamped near Scotts Bluff, having marched twenty-two miles. It was an exceedingly tiresome march, owing to the heat and dust. Several mirages were seen in looking down the river. We passed two more Indian camps and met many Indians scattered along the road, on their way to the West. An ox-train is corralled alongside of us this evening, the wagon-master of which informs us that the Cheyenne Indians are collected on the South Platte in such numbers as to render them quite insolent, and that they have even attempted to force wagon-masters of trains to give them provisions.

_September 4_ (Saturday). We pitched camp near Castle or Courthouse Rocks, after having marched twenty-four miles. This has been a more oppressive day even than yesterday.

_September 5_ (Sunday). We remained in camp. As fuel of every description is scarce at this place the police party was sent out on mule-back, with gunny-bags, in quest of buffalo chips.

_September 6_ (Monday). Our march extended as far as Platte Meadows, twenty-five and a half miles. Toward the latter part of the afternoon it began to rain, and has continued a dismal, dreary fall all night.

_September 7_ (Tuesday). We again encamped on the Platte, marching twenty-two and a half miles. The mosquitoes were very troublesome during the march, following us in perfect clouds--do all that we could to present it, we were soon covered with stings.

_September 8_ (Wednesday). We marched twenty and a half miles and once more encamped on the North Platte.

_September 9_ (Thursday). We encamped near Ash Hollow, a distance of seventeen and a half miles. We followed the sandy bed of the Hollow until we arrived at the point where the road leaves it and ascends a high hill. Before undertaking the ascent, we unharnessed the mules, turned them out to grass, and ate our dinner. Night found us crossing the hills between the two forks of the Platte, beneath a steady fall of rain. We were at last obliged to encamp upon the road, where no water could be obtained; but we had anticipated this want, having brought all the barrels and kegs that we could possibly muster filled with water from the spring in the hollow.

_September 10_ (Friday). We pitched our camp on the south side of the South Fork of the Platte River, concluding a march of eighteen and a half miles. The crossing of the river was very different from that of three months ago; we merely rolled up our pantaloons and forded the stream, coming out on the other side perfectly dry, the water being no place more than knee deep. We continued along the river about four miles and then encamped.

_September 11_ (Saturday). We marched twenty-three and a half miles and encamped again on the South Fork. We passed a mule-train which was taking out the families of the Fourth Artillery and the Second Dragoons.

_September 12_ (Sunday). We stayed in camp to-day for a rest. A few of us got together and prepared what in this country is called a sumptuous dinner--boiled tongue, fried bacon and beefsteak, liver and onions, flap-jacks, boiled rice and chocolate. This feast being spread out in tempting array on the ground, two or three of the men in the next tent were invited to dinner and we gathered around it, sitting cross-legged. In the afternoon the tent was converted into a wine press. Some of the men had found grapes in their rambles and brought as many as they could carry. Accordingly, putting all the empty cups into the service, we pressed the grapes into them, mashing them with our hands. After working indefatigably a couple of hours, staining ourselves from head to foot and spoiling all the silk handkerchiefs we could obtain in the process of straining, we procured about a gallon of grape juice.

_September 13_ (Monday). We encamped at Fremonts Spring, having marched twenty-four and a half miles. This is a very poor camp site. The water is stagnant, being found only in a slough of black mud, and fuel is very scarce. The comet which was discovered June 2d by Donati was rediscovered by us this evening; the appearance of the phenomenon was highly interesting, as we had an excellent opportunity of seeing it over our prairie horizon.

_September 14_ (Tuesday). We marched twenty-five and three-quarter miles, and encamped near Box Elder Creek. The water is even worse than at Fremonts Spring, and we were obliged to dig for some that was fit for use. The mosquitoes being very numerous and bloodthirsty here, we burnt an incense of buffalo chips in our tent this evening. Several buffaloes were seen during the march, feeding, about a mile from the road and almost at the foot of the sand hills which extend the whole length of the river. They were too far off, however, to permit a chase.