Through these bottom lands, which were from two to four miles wide, there ran in every direction buffalo paths, which had been traversed so often by the animals that they were no less than fifteen inches wide and four inches deep in the solid earth, and as smooth as if cut out with a spade.
Although we knew that buffaloes ranged in this region, it would indeed have been folly to set off, especially at nightfall, with the idea that we might find a herd, and so I told the eager ones, who grumbled not a little, believing I refused to lead them in the chase because of my own indolence.
LAME OXEN
When we made camp, after having traveled sixteen miles, John Mitchell called my attention to the fact that our oxen were growing lame, and he seemed quite vexed because I treated it as a matter of course.
Any one who has traveled from the Missouri River to the Oregon country, knows that while crossing the prairies, which are covered with a dry stubble of matted grass, the hoofs of the animals will become hard and crack, thus allowing dirt to collect in the crevices until the leg above the hoof swells, and sometimes festers.
There is only one way to treat this trouble, which is to wash thoroughly in water made very strong with soap, and then scrape away all the diseased part of the hoof, after which tar, or hot pitch, should be applied freely.
Our men should have looked after the feet of the animals, but perhaps because that required too much labor, they had allowed the poor beasts to go neglected, and now had come the time when, unless they set about it manfully, our journey to the Oregon country might be ended suddenly.
AN ARMY OF EMIGRANTS
That evening, while every man was working for the relief of the oxen, three companies of emigrants, one after another, came up and encamped within half a mile of us, until we had close under our eyes, belonging to these strangers, more than a hundred wagons.