“We started the next day, and struck the Platte afore night. There war but twenty good men, an’ I made half of ’em stand watch that night just to get their hands in. In course they didn’t see nothin’, ’cept one straddlin’ chap, like this feller yer that is called Nat. He said as how he seed wonders, he did, and thar war a hundred reds crawlin’ round the camp all night.
“We went purty slow, as it weren’t best to hurry the teams; but we hadn’t been two days on the way afore the fools got into the all-firedest scrabble I ever seed. I don’t know what it come ’bout, but it war so big, they split company, and part of ’em crossed over and camped on t’other side the Platte. I tole ’em they’d see stars purty soon, if they didn’t splice agin, but they’s too rearin’ to do it, and I said if they’s a mind to be sich fools, they mought be fur all me, and I’d let ’em go on alone. Howsomever, the smallest party hung on fur me not to leave ’em, and I ’cluded to stay with ’em as I knowed purty well they’d need me all the time.
“The biggest company as had crossed the Platte, kept on by it, and so the others said they’d leave it and cut across fur Oregon. I tole ’em this war the best way, and so we left ’em. Them I war with war a heap the smallest, and had but three or four men and five or six women and children. What made things look wuss, I seed ‘signs’ when we parted, and I knowed purty well the reds smelt what war goin’ on. And ’bout a dozen times in the afternoon I could see ’em off on the perarie stealin’ long and dodgin’ through cover. I knowed that the imps were follerin’ us, seein’ the other war a heap more powerful nor us.
“Things got so dubersome afore night, I said to the men ef they’d take the advice of a feller as knowed what he war ’bout, they’d turn round and never stop till they cotched the others; for ef they didn’t, they’d cotch it at night; reds war ’bout them as thick as flies. They said how ef I’s ’fraid I mought go back, but as for them they’d go through fire and blazes ’fore they would. I felt riled ’nough at this to leave ’em, and I would ef it hadn’t been fur them poor women; they looked so sorrerful I made up my mind to stick to ’em fur thar sake.
“We reached the stream just as it war growing dark, and the reds had got so sassy, that five or six of ’em stood a little ways off and watched us. This scart the women and men, and they axed me what war to be done? The women cried and wanted to coax the Injins up to give ’em sunkthin’ to get thar good will, but they war cross and sulky, and didn’t say much.
“After some talk and a heap of cryin’, we ’cluded to camp on that piece of sand in the river. The teams war drew over and we follered. The water war some deeper nor now, and it took us a long time to land; but we got over at last. As soon as we war clean over, I commenced fixing up things fur the reds. We didn’t build no fire, but put the teams together near the middle, and the women inside ’em. There war four men without me, and I set ’em round the place to watch fur sign. I made ’em all squat flat down on the mud close to the water, and told ’em to blaze away at anything they seed, ef it war a beaver or otter, and gave ’em pertickler orders not to wink both eyes at a time. I seed they’s skerish, and there weren’t no danger of thar snoozin’ on watch.
“I’s pretty sartin the reds would come some of thar tricks, and come down the river; so I went up to the upper part of the thing, and laid in the mud myself to watch fur ’em. I knowed, too, they wouldn’t be ’bout ’fore purty late, so I took a short nap as I laid in the mud. When I woke up the moon war up in the sky, and the river had riz so my pegs war in the water. I flapped out, but didn’t see nothin’ yet. I sneaked down round by t’other fellers, and found ’em all wide awake; and they said, too, as how they hadn’t seen nothin’ ’cept the river war gettin’ higher, which they kinder thought the Injins mought ’ve done. Jist as I war going back I heard some of the purtiest singin’ in the world. Fust, I thought it war an Injin, ef it hadn’t been so nice; then I ’cluded it must be an angel. I listened, and found it came from the wagons. I crept up and seed two little girls all ’lone clus by the wagons, a singin’ sunkthin’. Shoot me! ef it didn’t make me feel watery to see them. The moon war shinin’ down through the flyin’ clouds, right out on ’em. They sot with their arms round each other and war bare-headed, and ef I hadn’t knowed ’em I’d swore they were angels sure. I axed what they were singin’ for, and they said the Injins war goin’ to come after ’em that night, and they war singin’ to their mother in heaven to keep ’em away. Shoot me! when one of ’em throwed her little white arms round my neck and kissed my ugly meat-trap, I couldn’t stand it. I went up to my place again and lad down in the mud.
“It was gettin’ colder, and the wind comin’ up, drew the white clouds ’fore the moon, makin’ it all black. But when it come out agin I seed sunkthin’ comin’ down the river that looked like a log. I dug down deeper into the mud, and set my peepers on it, fur I knowed thar war sunkthin’ else thar, too. It come right on and struck the mud a little ways from me. I didn’t stir ’cept to kinder loose my knife. The log stuck a minute, and then swung round and went down the river. I knowed the boys would see it, and I didn’t leave my place. Thinkin’ as how this war only sent down to see what we’d do, I war lookin’ fur other things, when I heard a noise in the water, and, shoot me, ef a sneakin’ red didn’t come up out of the water, and commence crawlin’ toward whar the gals war singin’. (Jist put a little fodder on the fire.)”
I sprang up and threw on some fagots, and then seated myself and anxiously awaited the rest of his story. He put away his pipe, filled his mouth with tobacco, and, after several annoying delays, resumed: