John was running a finger over the crude map which he and Jesse had been making from day to day. “Hah!” said he. “Here’s the big Platte Valley coming in, but no big city at the mouth.”
“Oh yes, there is,” corrected Uncle Dick. “Omaha and Council Bluffs you can call the same as at the mouth of the Platte, for they serve that valley with a new kind of transportation, that of steam, which did not have to stick to the watercourse, but took shorter cuts.
“It’s odd, but our explorers seem even then to have heard of a road to Santa Fe. They also say the Kansas River is described as heading ‘with the river Del Noird in the black Mountain or ridge which Divides the Waters of the Kansas, Del Nord, & Collarado.’ No doubt the early French or the Indians confused the Kaw with the Arkansas.
“Enough! Taps, Sergeant! To bed, all of you,” he concluded; and they were willing to turn in.
In the morning early they were at the dock, and were greeted by Johnson, who, sure enough, had the gasoline cans filled and most of the heavy supplies aboard. By eight-thirty they were chugging away again up the water front of the city, their Flag flying, so that many thought it was a government boat of some sort.
Jesse tried to write in his notebook, but did not make much of a success, owing to the trembling of the boat under the double power.
“He always says ‘we set out and proceeded on,’” Jesse explained. “I was trying to write how the expedition left the mouth of the Kansas River.”
“Look out for ‘emence numbers of Deer on the banks,’ now,” sung out John, who had the Journal on a box top near by. “‘They are Skipping in every derection. The party killed 9 Bucks to-day!’”
“But no buffalo yet,” said Rob.