May 23 (Sunday). This turned out to be another day of rest—and, as nothing could be found for us to do, we had our share in it, too.
Last night we were all awakened by the fury of a severe thunder storm. The rain fell in torrents, and a little of it made its way into the tents. The wind blew a perfect tornado. As we expected every minute to be without a roof over our heads, and could do nothing to avert the danger, we did the next best thing—sat down and smoked our pipes. The lightning was blinding, and the flashes followed each other in constant succession. The loud thunder rattled everything movable around us. But the storm was too violent to last, and before our pipes were out we saw the full moon in the sky, and the lunar-bow.
May 24 (Monday). Last night we were favored with act two of the play begun the night before. The wind, hail, and rain raged with a fury not a whit less severe, but again no damage was done.
We marched to the Second Crossing of Elm Creek, seventeen and a third miles. The effect of the storm was to render our marching less comfortable, the roads being very muddy and the grass dripping with water, so that we were soon wet and muddy up to our knees. We came across a couple of emigrants, near the close of our march. May 25 (Tuesday). This day brought us to the valley of the Platte River, after a march of eighteen miles. The valley is level, and about three miles in width, the river winding along a serpentine course. The river is nearly a quarter of a mile wide, and from two to twelve feet in depth, the current being very swift and powerful.
The day closed with a sad accident. A supernumerary teamster of the commissary train, Thomas B. Smith, of New Jersey, went in bathing, took cramps, and was carried away by a relentless current to a watery grave. Fruitless efforts were made to recover the body.
A grave was seen as we descended into the valley; a lonely record of sanguine expectations and frustrated hopes. A board at the head bore the inscription, "Miss Susan G. Hale, Mormon; Died 1852, Aged 24 years."
Here first commenced the work of gathering buffalo chips for fuel. We engaged in the duty somewhat reluctantly, softening the unpleasantness of it by laughing at each other.
May 26 (Wednesday). We reached the long-looked-for Fort Kearney, marching thirteen and a third miles. Our course lay along the valley, and the Fort was in sight throughout the march. It first consisted only of a chimney and a flag-pole, but every mile added something to it. A large house, we found, was attached to the chimney, and a flag to the pole, and at last the place grew into several extensive buildings, flanked about by adobe houses. Inhabitants: Infantry and washerwomen. Goods for sale: buffalo skins and whiskey. Game: buffaloes and wolves. Products: prairie grass and cacti. Water very poor.
A mail was distributed among us, and the happy recipients sought shady nooks in which to have a chat with some loved one, or perhaps to battle with wind and sand in trying to reply to the epistles received.
May 27 (Thursday). We remained in camp on account of about fifty teamsters of the commissary train striking for higher wages. They were marched away from the camp, bag and baggage, with the guard at their rear at charge bayonets. The delay was rather fortunate, however, as it gave an opportunity, both to us and the mules, to recuperate from the wear and tear of the march.