Buffalo Bill and the Overland Trail / Being the story of how boy and man worked hard and played hard to blaze the white trail, by wagon train, stage coach and pony express, across the great plains and the mountains beyond, that the American republic might expand and flourish

by Edwin L. Sabin

“Well,” uttered Charley, “we’ll do the best we can.”

It was a solemn company which with bared heads stood about the spot where they laid Sailor Bill. A deep hole was dug beside the trail, and what was left of Sailor Bill, wrapped in a blanket, was lowered into it. Charley read a chapter from the Bible, the hole was filled, and the wagons made a little detour to drive across the spot and pack the soil so that the coyotes would not be tempted to dig there.

“We’ll certainly miss Bill and his ‘Bay of Biscay, O!’” said the men; and they did.

Henry Renick was appointed by Charley to Sailor Bill’s wagon and team, and the train rolled on.

Fort Kearney was four days, or fifty miles, ahead. On the fourth day a great dust, crossing the Leavenworth trail, made a cloud against the horizon; and Charley, pointing, remarked to Davy: “There’s the Platte trail. We’ll be in Kearney to-night.”

Fort Kearney was located on the south bank of the Platte River, at the head of a large island thirty miles long, which was called Grand Island. The military reservation extended on both sides of the river. The fort was not nearly so pleasant or so well built as Fort Leavenworth. The bluffs and the country around were bare and gray, and the buildings were old frame buildings, rather tumble-down. The only timber was on Grand Island, which made a green spot in the landscape.

Fort Kearney was a division point on the Overland Trail for Russell, Majors & Waddell. Charley reported to the company agent here, and the train laid up for a day to rest and restock with what provisions were needed. The meat was running short, for buffalo had been scarce all the way from Leavenworth.

At Fort Kearney the Leavenworth trail joined the main trail that came in from Omaha and Nebraska City. That trail crossed the Platte just above Fort Kearney, and there met the Leavenworth trail; and as one they proceeded west up the south bank of the Platte.

People at Fort Kearney claimed that on some days 500 wagons passed, headed either west or east. Joel Badger started in to count the number of teams in sight throughout an hour, but quit tired. And truly, the scene at old Fort Kearney was a stirring one: the long lines of white-topped wagons slowly toiling in from the east and the southeast, and, uniting above the fort, toiling on out, under their dust cloud, up the river course into the west.

Charley did not delay here longer than was absolutely necessary, and Davy, as well as others in the train, was glad to be away on the trail again. Yank, the assistant wagon boss, and Charley, his chief, almost had a fight, despite the pledge that they had taken, for Yank had begun drinking in the groggeries of vicious Dobytown on the edge of the post and was uglier than usual.