June 15 (Tuesday). We did not march to-day, on account of an express being sent to Fort Laramie, about fifty miles from here, to ascertain if any orders are there for the command, to carry our mail matter, and to procure a guide to pilot us from Bridgers Pass to Fort Bridger. Having found that pine wood is available, a wagon was sent out, with a detail of men, to cut and bring in a load.
The Company was indulged in the luxury of a drill to-day, and notwithstanding the uneven nature of the ground, and the fact of our having been so long on the march, our men went through the movements and maneuvers with remarkable precision.
June 16 (Wednesday). We took up the march and went on a distance of nineteen and a half miles. We encamped again on Pole Creek, which we crossed once on the march. At one point we reached two high, rocky bluffs, covered with pine timber, the road ascending about half way to the top of the bluff on the right of the valley, and forming sort of a ledge along its almost precipitous side. Some large trees grew over the road and threw a shade across it. On the left of the road was a deep chasm, in which, about sixty feet below, ran the creek, thickly shaded on either side by dense shrubbery. This beautiful spot possessed such charms for us, coming as we did from the bleak, uninteresting prairie, that we stopped to rest, and thought ourselves transported into the regions of fairyland. But our pleasure was short-lived, for this oasis of the wilderness continued for only a half-mile, when the country again relapsed into the monotonous sky and prairie, relieved only by the scanty shrubbery which grew along the creek.
June 17 (Thursday). We are again encamped on Lodge Pole Creek, our day's march amounting to sixteen and three-fifths miles. The valley was somewhat more rolling than usual to-day. We crossed many ravines and hills, and once more crossed the creek. No timber is within sight yet. Antelopes are very numerous here, but so wild that it is almost impossible to kill any.
June 18 (Friday). We marched nineteen and a half miles, and again encamped on Pole Creek. A small party of men were detailed this morning to cut wood and bring it to the side of the road where the wagons could take it up. About the middle of the march we passed two more pine bluffs, one on each side of the valley, and afterwards emerged upon a long, level plain, where we came to a full stop before an ominous looking bog. Two or three wagons tried to cross; but wagons, mules and all settled down into the soft, black mud; the mules to their bodies and the wagons to the axle-trees. As the mules could not pull out, and the men failed in swearing them out, we were obliged to have recourse to what one of our party termed "main strength and stupidity." By the use of a little force two of the old settlers were extricated; the other proved more stubborn in its affection for "mother earth," and as the mules sat down disconsolately in the mud, we had to send ahead for the assistance of two or three more teams. We hitched on all the mules, and ourselves pulled on ropes attached to the wheels—and our labors and perseverance were finally rewarded with success.
When we reached camp we found an old guide named Duval waiting for us. He was sent over from Fort Laramie, and had been waiting a day or two for our appearance. Duval had shot a fine buck antelope, which he presented to us, and evening found us busily engaged around our camp fires, cooking our steaks.
June 19 (Saturday). We marched eighteen and three-quarter miles, passing over a level prairie throughout the march. We crossed the creek once more—we had the pleasure of crossing it seven times yesterday—and are encamped upon it again, also. As we are now rapidly approaching its source the creek is growing quite shallow, but the water is, if anything, purer and colder. Near the close of the march two or three white clouds were on the horizon, in front and a little to the left of us. All the firmament, except this one spot, was perfectly innocent of anything like a cloud, and the objects themselves kept such a stubbornly immovable position that we began to doubt whether they were clouds after all. As we approached camp they changed their appearance not in the least, except that they grew somewhat larger. When we were encamped a party ascended a bluff nearby and satisfied ourselves that we were actually in sight of the Medicine Bow Mountains. This was a new and grand sight to many of us. On our right, far in the distance, could be descried a long range of mountains, stretching away as far as the eye could see. Compared with the color of the rolling prairie, that fills up the expanse between us and the mountains, they are a dusky black—hence the name, "Black Hills." The appearance is owing to the density of the pine timber with which the hills are covered.
Our men shot two antelopes, of which achievement we were all very proud.
June 20 (Sunday). We are now nearly six hundred miles from Fort Leavenworth. The day was spent in domestic occupations. Groups might be seen sitting in the shade of the wagons, the only objects which here afford a shade, engaged in mending the breaches in their breeches and other clothes. Others were busied in the laundry department. Others, again, were deep in the mazes of correspondence.
A most magnificent sunset was seen by us this evening. The God of Day was retiring from our vision, majestically robing himself in the dark, threatening thunder-clouds which were rapidly spreading over the heavens. The storm soon interposed its black curtain between us and the grand spectacle, and darkness reigned where before everything was bathed in a flood of silvery light.