the river in the form of a half wheel. When the wagons had all been
crossed, the loose stock was swum over into the opening. There was no
confusion, but everything proceeded with almost military precision. A
committee had been appointed to keep tally on the number of wagons
crossed on the boats. The traders were then paid $4 for each and every
wagon. Still they fumed and threatened. The faces of the more timid
blanched and a few women were in tears. I beheld the whole proceedings
with childish wonder. But the circumstances of that 4th of July and the
execution of the murderer were burned into my brain with letters of
fire, never to be effaced while memory holds her sway.

Every man was under arms that night. Horses were tied up and the work
oxen chained to the wagons, a strict guard being kept on the traders in
the mean time. The next morning the long string of wagons started out on
the road. Two hundred men rode on either side to defend the train, while
scouting parties rode at a distance to guard against surprise. This
formation was kept up for several days, but seeing neither traders nor
Indians the different trains separated and each went its way unmolested.

Bear river and Soda Springs were next passed. A few miles this side of
Soda Springs the roads forked, one going to California and the other to
Oregon. Here a council was held. A portion of "our train" wanted to take
the California road. Others preferred the Oregon route. A vote was taken
and resulted in a majority for Oregon, and association and friendship
being stronger than mere individual preference, all moved out on the
Oregon road.

Snake river was finally reached, and here the real trials of the journey
began. From some cause, not then understood, our oxen began to die. The
best and fattest died first, often two and three in one camp. Cows were