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The Oregon Trail: sketches of prairie and Rocky-Mountain life by Francis Parkman
page 28 of 393 (07%)
to fall; and sat at the opening of the tent, watching the proceedings of
the captain. In defiance of the rain he was stalking among the horses,
wrapped in an old Scotch plaid. An extreme solicitude tormented him,
lest some of his favorites should escape, or some accident should befall
them; and he cast an anxious eye toward three wolves who were sneaking
along over the dreary surface of the plain, as if he dreaded some
hostile demonstration on their part.

On the next morning we had gone but a mile or two, when we came to an
extensive belt of woods, through the midst of which ran a stream, wide,
deep, and of an appearance particularly muddy and treacherous. Delorier
was in advance with his cart; he jerked his pipe from his mouth, lashed
his mules, and poured forth a volley of Canadian ejaculations. In
plunged the cart, but midway it stuck fast. Delorier leaped out
knee-deep in water, and by dint of sacres and a vigorous application of
the whip, he urged the mules out of the slough. Then approached the long
team and heavy wagon of our friends; but it paused on the brink.

"Now my advice is--" began the captain, who had been anxiously
contemplating the muddy gulf.

"Drive on!" cried R.

But Wright, the muleteer, apparently had not as yet decided the point
in his own mind; and he sat still in his seat on one of the shaft-mules,
whistling in a low contemplative strain to himself.

"My advice is," resumed the captain, "that we unload; for I'll bet any
man five pounds that if we try to go through, we shall stick fast."

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