There were but four men, with perhaps a dozen women and children, all living in lodges made of smoke-dried skins, and looking exceedingly dirty and disagreeable.
We girls were not inclined to linger there long, although the Indians were willing we should, and when our short visit had been brought to a close, they followed us, clustering around our wagons and waiting patiently for food to be thrown to them.
From this time on during a full week we continued to push steadily forward, moving so slowly that even we girls could understand the journey would be exceedingly long and wearisome.
I WEARY WITH SO MUCH TRAVELING
More than once did I reproach myself with having been so eager to leave Pike County, and many times I said to myself that a girl who has a happy home is indeed foolish to wish for a change, lest, like Ellen and me, they find, as mother often says, that they have jumped out of the frying pan into the fire.
One day was much like another. Now the trail would be hard underfoot and the traveling easy, and again we would cross a stream, the bottom lands of which were so marshy that the oxen lugged and strained at their yokes, until oftentimes it was necessary to double up the teams in order that the heavy wagons could be pulled over the soft footing.
The only thing I remember which came to break the monotony of the slow march was when, on a certain evening, father returned with his pockets and hands full of wild onions which he had found on the prairie. Because our meals had consisted chiefly of corn bread and salted meat, I said to myself that now we would have a feast.
But alas! those wild onions were like my dreams about traveling to the land of California. While they looked fair on the outside before being cooked, they were so strong to the taste that one nearly choked in trying to eat them.