The ford was shallow, but on the other side the banks loomed in front of us like the sides of a cliff. In order to get even the lightest wagon to the top we had to yoke all the oxen in one team, and even then every man of us put his shoulder to the tailboard, pushing and straining as we forced the heavy vehicle straight into the air, as one might say.
One entire day was spent in crossing, and within an hour of sunset we pitched our tents on the high banks, where we let down buckets by ropes in order to get water for cooking,—this method being easier than scrambling up and down the steep incline.
Before night had come a party of about sixty from the Ohio country joined us, having fifteen wagons.
They were unaccustomed to such traveling, as I understood after seeing them make camp. When the leader came up to John Mitchell, proposing that we journey together from then onward, claiming that by thus increasing the numbers each company would be in greater security from the Indians, I gave my employer a look which I intended should say that we would travel as we had started, independently.
WASH DAY
From this point on to the Little Vermilion Creek was eighteen miles over high, rolling prairie, and I believed we ought to make it in one day's travel, which we did.
We arrived at the creek about four o'lock in the afternoon, and within thirty minutes it seemed as if the banks of that small stream were literally lined with fires, over each of which was suspended a kettle filled with water. Tubs were brought out from all the wagons, for the women of our company had decided on making a "wash day" of the three or four hours remaining before sunset.
On seeing that Susan Mitchell was not taking part in this labor, I proposed that we ride five or six miles onward, where I knew would be found quite a large village of Kansas Indians. She was only too well pleased with the proposition, even though having been in the saddle since early morning.
