After traveling up the Arkansas river some distance, above what is known
as Big Bend, we struck the Buffalo Country, and I presume it was a week
that we were never out of the sight of Buffalos. I remember we camped on
the bank of the river just above Pawne Rock that night; the next morning
we were up early and had our breakfast, as we calculated to make a big
drive that day. Carson had been telling us how many days it would take
us to make Bent's Fort, and we wanted to get there before the Fourth of
July. Just as we had got our animals packed and every thing in readiness
to start, a herd of Buffalo commenced crossing the river about a half a
mile above our camp. The reader will understand that the Buffalo always
cross the river where it is shallow, their instinct teaching them that
where the water is shallow, there is a rock bottom, and in crossing
these places they avoid quicksand. This was the only crossing in fifteen
miles up or down the river. We did not get to move for twenty-four
hours. It seems unreasonable to tell the number of Buffalo that crossed
the river in those twenty-four hours. After crossing the river a half a
mile at the north of the ford, they struck the foot hill; and one could
see nothing but a moving, black mass, as far as the eye could see.

I do not remember how long we were going from there to Bent's Fort, but
we got there on the second of July, 1847, and every white man that was
within three hundred miles was there, which were just sixteen. At this
present time, I presume there are two or three hundred thousand within
the same distance from Bent's Fort, and that is only fifty-eight years
ago! In view of the great change that has taken place in the last half
century, what will the next half century bring? The reader must remember
that the increase must be three to one to what it was at that time.

After staying at Bent's Fort eight days we pulled out for "Taos,"