Chapter III: Part 3

_September 15_ (Wednesday). We encamped on the main Platte, after a march of twenty-five and three-quarter miles. When we left camp, this morning, a shaggy brute of a buffalo came very close to the company; he soon paid the forfeit of his life for his curiosity, being shot by Lieutenant Alexander. A short time afterward a small herd came close to us. Lieutenant Alexander gave chase and wounded a fine, large fellow that ran directly toward us. When he came within range a half-dozen of us crept toward him, but at the first shot, being hit, he turned about and ran in a different course. We continued the chase, but were all recalled to the company except one, who followed the animal, firing at intervals, and watched by us with intense interest. At last the buffalo seemed exhausted and stopped, the hunter drawing near him. We saw the man shoot and saw the beast leap into the air, then turn and charge on the man who had fired at him. The whole Company started to his rescue, loading as we ran, and the first few shots turned the buffalo toward the hills, in which direction he bounded with mighty strides, notwithstanding the fact that he was riddled with bullets. He was finished later by some of the men with the train, and brought into camp.

The valley, on the other side of the river, is literally black with buffaloes. Soon after we made camp a large fellow waded leisurely across the river, just in front of the camp, so that we were able to get a near view of him. He was one of the ugliest of these ugly brutes. Shot after shot was fired at the animal, yet he stood firm and resolute, not a motion betraying pain or fear. There was something noble in the manner in which he faced his persecutors, as though, knowing he could not reach them, he could yet show them he knew how to die. Suddenly he curved his tail, a shudder went through his mighty frame, and he rolled over dead. The men waded out and cut him up. After dark the wolves finished what the men had left.

_September 16_ (Thursday). We marched twenty-four and a half miles and camped near Plum Creek. The buffaloes made their appearance in great numbers; one small herd ran across the road, directly in front of the train, which sudden charge frightened the mules into a general, though short-lived, stampede. Nine buffaloes were killed to-day, only three of which, however, were brought in.

_September 17_ (Friday). We encamped on the Platte River, after a march of twenty-four and a half miles. It proved to be a severe march, the day being hot and the roads dusty. Our canteens became empty toward the latter part of the march and we suffered greatly for the want of water. When we came within sight of the river the whole Company made an unceremonious rush for it--never did water seem more cool and refreshing. The number of buffaloes seems to increase rather than diminish. The Company fired two volleys at one, which had the temerity to approach to within point-blank range. He limped for a few hundred yards with his grievous load of lead, then quietly lay down and expired. At another time we fired by file at a herd, to drive it from the road.

_September 18_ (Saturday). We arrived once more at Fort Kearney, having marched nineteen and a quarter miles. Not one buffalo was seen during the whole day, although there was a party detailed to hunt. Their sudden disappearance surprised us considerably, until we learned that the grass throughout the last twenty miles is of a kind that the animal does not relish. We encamped in rear of the Fort, where the water is most convenient. The man who was left here on the march out, Robert Ayres, rejoined the Company, having completely recovered.

_September 19_ (Sunday). The day was given up to rest, which our weary bodies much needed, as the fatiguing nature of the long marches and the frequent occurrence of our tours of guard duty have drawn very largely upon our physical energies.

_September 20_ (Monday). We drew rations to-day and made general preparations for our start to-morrow. Darkness brought with it a fiddler from the Fort, a real jovial "culluhed puhson," who was not so much a violinist as a fiddler; who danced "Juba," "Jim Crow," and the "Old Virginia Break-down," and sang all the Negro songs in the catalogue for the edification and amusement of his numerous audience.

_September 21_ (Tuesday). We traversed twenty-two and three-quarters miles of country, and encamped on the hills above Platte Valley. As we feared the necessity of camping where water could not be found, we nooned on the river before bidding it farewell. Our cooks made preparations for soup, but discovered upon examining the meat that by reason of the warm weather we would have to forego that refreshment. We filled our water casks before resuming our march, and after a very fatiguing tramp we encamped near a slough, which, together with what water we had brought with us, supplied our necessities for this evening.

_September 22_ (Wednesday). We reached the Little Blue River, after a march of twenty-seven miles. The route was over the hills which border upon the Little Blue; at the termination of the march we descended into the valley and encamped on the bank of the river. Game has been unusually scarce the past few days, but to-day a buffalo and some antelopes were seen, although we did not succeed in obtaining any.

_September 23_ (Thursday). We encamped again on the Little Blue, concluding a march of twenty-four miles. We passed a spot where a new log building had not long since been commenced. Upon entering it a dog was discovered lying on the ground, near some clothing saturated with blood. We endeavored to entice the dog out, but neither threat nor persuasion would induce him to leave his solitary tenement, all we could elicit from him being an inquiring, mournful look which moved the sternest heart to pity. We suspected that the premises had been the scene of foul play, and upon further search a newly made grave was found contiguous to the building. Later we were told that the man who had owned the claim was murdered by a lawless gang of ruffians which infests the neighborhood.

_September 24_ (Friday). Our odometer registered twenty-three miles. Our camp is near a large elm tree, the only tree to be seen for miles around, wherefore we adopted the name, "Lone Tree Camp." One or two log houses were seen during the day's march, and we derived some comfort from the fact that we are once more getting into an inhabited country.

_September 25_ (Saturday). We passed several very fine streams in the course of our twenty-three-mile march, but encamped near a nauseous bog from which we were forced to take water for drinking and cooking. We crossed the Big and Little Sandy Creeks, at the latter of which we cut a supply of wood, leaving the sick wagon behind to carry it. At the Big Sandy we saw a very tasty log building, which, together with its grounds, possessed an air of comfort lacking in many farms and houses farther East.

_September 26_ (Sunday). We continued in camp, an arrangement that accords very well with the dictates of our consciences, which become the more sensitive the nearer we approach to civilization. At the close of the day we sang some sacred songs--a sort of penance for the many breaches of the Fourth Commandment of which we have been guilty during the march.

_September 27_ (Monday). We encamped at Cottonwood Creek, after a march of twenty-six and a quarter miles. To-day an arrangement was made which conduces greatly to the comfort of the Company. An order was published to the effect that half of the guard should ride half the length of the march, and the other half of the guard the remainder; also that a third of the Company should ride an hour, then to be relieved by another third, and so on. This assisted very much in saving us from the fatigue of steady marching.

_September 28_ (Tuesday). We marched twenty-four and a half miles and encamped on Small Creek. We crossed the Big Blue River, by fording, this morning, and halted there an hour for rest and to water the mules. We then passed through Palmetto City, and found that since our march through there, in going out, there have been added several more buildings; the place has, in fact, begun to assume the appearance of a thriving little village. The pleasure of entering a store was furnished us, and we gave the astonished proprietors an unusual run of custom for a few minutes.

_September 29_ (Wednesday). We marched and rode twenty-eight and a quarter miles, and encamped on Big Nemaha Creek. The march afforded nothing of note, with the exception of a watermelon frolic, which occurred during a rest in front of a store. We were so elated at once more coming within reach of fruit that the proprietor was quickly rid of his stock of melons and cantaloupes.

_September 30_ (Thursday). We pitched our camp on Muddy Creek, concluding a march of twenty-one miles. As there are several farmhouses in the vicinity of our camp, this evening we had an opportunity to enjoy the luxury of butter, milk, cheese, eggs, etc.--which good fortune contributed not a little toward restoring us to cheerfulness and good humor.

_October 1_ (Friday). Twenty-six and a half miles were left behind, which brought us to the first branch of Grasshopper Creek. Very many comfortable farms were seen, the grounds covered with thriving crops. We crossed the third and second branches of Grasshopper Creek, and Walnut Creek.

_October 2_ (Saturday). We pitched our camp below Mount Pleasant, a neat little town about thirteen miles from Fort Leavenworth. The day's march amounted to twenty miles. The road presented an unusual sight, in that it was nearly all the way enclosed between two fences. When we passed over this road on our march to Utah, scarcely more than a dozen farms were to be seen, and those but lately commenced; now we are astonished to see the country, for about forty miles from Leavenworth, thickly settled with fine, thriving farms, neatly built houses, and waving fields of grain, enclosed by strong, well built fences.

_October 3_ (Sunday). To-day we arrived at the termination of our march--the goal that has been so anxiously looked for--and in the midst of a general excitement in the meeting of friends, and the hurry and bustle of unpacking the wagons and carrying their contents into our old quarters, we took possession of our rooms, every one laughing and talking together, exceedingly delighted to think our hardships at last concluded. The evening was employed in ridding ourselves of the soil and stains of our long march; the well-worn prairie uniform being speedily cast off, and new articles of clothing, perseveringly husbanded for this occasion, as quickly taking its place.

[End of narrative.]

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NOTE: But a few days were spent at Fort Leavenworth before the
Company resumed the eastward movement, by boat and train, arriving
at West Point on the 12th day of October, 1858.

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_Miles._
The Outward March 989
The Return March 1,028-1/3
Extra Marching in Work of Construction 62
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Aggregate 2,079-1/3