During the next two weeks nothing occurred to relieve the monotony of the journey. The train took up its line of march at daylight, halted at noon for an hour or two, and shortly after sunset encamped for the night. The fight with the Indians had not driven all thoughts of the antelopes out of the boys’ minds. And while the train journeyed along the road, they scoured the prairie, in search of the wished-for game. The appearance of the “sea of grass,” which stretched away on all sides, as far as their eyes could reach, not a little surprised them. Instead of the perfectly level plain they had expected to see, the surface of the prairie was broken by gentle swells, like immense waves of the ocean, and here and there—sometimes two or three days’ journey apart—were small patches of woods, called “oak openings.”
One night they made their camp in sight of the Rocky Mountains. While the trapper was cooking their supper, he said to the boys, who had thrown themselves on the ground near the wagon:
“It aint fur from here that me an’ ole Bill Lawson lost that wagon train. I never travel along here that I don’t think of that night, an’ I sometimes feel my cap rise on my head, jest as it did when them Injuns come pourin’ into the camp. But the varlets have been pushed back further an’ further, an’ now a feller’s as safe here as he would be in Fort Laramie. The ole bar’s hole aint more’n fifty mile from here, an’ if your uncle don’t mind the ride, I should like to show you the cave that has so often sarved me fur a hidin’-place.”
The boys looked toward Mr. Winters, who, having frequently heard the guide speak of the “ole bar’s hole,” felt some curiosity to see it. So, after being assured by both the trappers that there was no danger to be apprehended, he gave his consent, remarking:
“We are in no hurry. I don’t suppose there is any possibility of being lost so long as we have Dick and Bob for guides; so we will go there, and take a week’s rest and a hunt.”
The boys were delighted, and the next morning, when the train resumed its journey, the emigrants were not a little surprised to see Mr. Winters’ wagon moving off by itself.
That night, when our travelers encamped, they were thirty miles from the train, and about the same distance from the “ole bar’s hole.” The mountains were plainly visible, and the boys could scarcely believe that they were nearly a day’s journey distant. They were certain that a ride of an hour or two would bring them to the willows that skirted their base.
“’T aint the fust time I’ve seed fellers fooled ’bout sich things,” said Dick. “Do you see that ’ar high peak?” he continued, pointing to a single mountain that rose high above the others. “Wal, thar’s whar the ole bar’s hole is. If we reach it afore dark to-morrer night, I’ll agree to set you down in Sacramento in two weeks.”
The boys were still far from being convinced, and they went to sleep that night fully believing that they would reach the mountains by noon the next day.