Chapter 3 - Page 2

the main stream of the

Nebraska or Platte River; twenty-five miles below the head of the

Great Island. The low banks of this river give it an appearance

of great width. Captain Bonneville measured it in one place, and

found it twenty-two hundred yards from bank to bank. Its depth

was from three to six feet, the bottom full of quicksands. The

Nebraska is studded with islands covered with that species of

poplar called the cotton-wood tree. Keeping up along the course

of this river for several days, they were obliged, from the

scarcity of game, to put themselves upon short allowance, and,

occasionally, to kill a steer. They bore their daily labors and

privations, however, with great good humor, taking their tone, in

all probability, from the buoyant spirit of their leader. "If the

weather was inclement," said the captain, "we watched the clouds,

and hoped for a sight of the blue sky and the merry sun. If food

was scanty, we regaled ourselves with the hope of soon falling in

with herds of buffalo, and having nothing to do but slay and

eat." We doubt whether the genial captain is not describing the

cheeriness of his own breast, which gave a cheery aspect to

everything around him.

There certainly were evidences, however, that the country was not

always equally destitute of game. At one place, they observed a

field decorated with buffalo skulls, arranged in circles, curves,

and other mathematical figures, as if for some mystic rite or

ceremony. They were almost innumerable, and seemed to have been a

vast hecatomb offered up in thanksgiving to the Great Spirit for

some signal success in the chase.

On the 11th of June, they came to the fork of the Nebraska, where

it divides itself into two equal and beautiful streams. One of

these branches rises in the west-southwest, near the headwaters

of the Arkansas. Up the course of this branch, as Captain

Bonneville was well aware, lay the route to the Camanche and

Kioway Indians, and to the northern Mexican settlements; of the

other branch he knew nothing. Its sources might lie among wild

and inaccessible cliffs, and tumble and foam down rugged defiles

and over craggy precipices; but its direction was in the true

course, and up this stream he determined to prosecute his route

to the Rocky Mountains. Finding it impossible, from quicksands

and other dangerous impediments, to cross the river in this

neighborhood, he kept up along the south fork for two days,

merely seeking a safe fording place. At length he encamped,

caused the bodies of the wagons to be dislodged from the