advance and wait at the crossing of the Kansas till we should come up.
Accordingly R. and the muleteers went forward with the wagon and tent,
while the captain and his brother, together with Sorel, and a trapper
named Boisverd, who had joined them, followed with the band of horses.
The commencement of the journey was ominous, for the captain was
scarcely a mile from Westport, riding along in state at the head of his
party, leading his intended buffalo horse by a rope, when a tremendous
thunderstorm came on, and drenched them all to the skin. They hurried on
to reach the place, about seven miles off, where R. was to have had the
camp in readiness to receive them. But this prudent person, when he
saw the storm approaching, had selected a sheltered glade in the woods,
where he pitched his tent, and was sipping a comfortable cup of coffee,
while the captain galloped for miles beyond through the rain to look
for him. At length the storm cleared away, and the sharp-eyed trapper
succeeded in discovering his tent: R. had by this time finished his
coffee, and was seated on a buffalo robe smoking his pipe. The captain
was one of the most easy-tempered men in existence, so he bore his
ill-luck with great composure, shared the dregs of the coffee with his
brother, and lay down to sleep in his wet clothes.

We ourselves had our share of the deluge. We were leading a pair of
mules to Kansas when the storm broke. Such sharp and incessant flashes
of lightning, such stunning and continuous thunder, I have never known
before. The woods were completely obscured by the diagonal sheets of
rain that fell with a heavy roar, and rose in spray from the ground; and
the streams rose so rapidly that we could hardly ford them. At length,
looming through the rain, we saw the log-house of Colonel Chick, who
received us with his usual bland hospitality; while his wife, who,
though a little soured and stiffened by too frequent attendance on
camp-meetings, was not behind him in hospitable feeling, supplied us