and knocked him down and took the mule away from him. About that time
the Irishman had come "along side" me and explained his position. He
said Johnnie had stolen his mule and that he was going to get his men
and hang him. Mark Shearer then begun an explanation but the two
Irishmen were on the "war path" and explanations were out of order. When
we finally got them straightened out, they had no very friendly feeling
for each other, and inwardly made up their minds to--BLANKETY-BLANK

The day I crossed my two wagons across the River, the Irishman was on
the boat with his mule Packed with provisions and clothing. Johnnie
Lynch was driving one yoke of oxen. I saw the Irishman raise his gun off
of the floor and put It to his shoulder as though he was going to Shoot.
I leveled my pistol on him and told him To drop the gun or he was a dead
man. He dropped the gun and I made him walk between the wagons. Mark
Shearer picked up the gun, took the cap off of it, wet the powder in the
tube and handed it back to the old fellow and told him to make no more
attempts to kill a man. We took one direction at the forks of the road
and he took another.

About 300 miles beyond this ferry we met the white pony returning but we
never saw any more of the Irishman. It is very probable that he "met his
Waterloo" somewhere in the boundless plains. We encountered a band of
the Sioux and Ute Indians, some of the same tribe that had killed
General Custer. Something like 150 or 200 came to camp. A few of them
could talk English. At the time they came to the camp, they were in a
strange mood. It took some courage and diplomacy on my part to keep my
men encouraged and to appear at ease with the Red Men.

I went up to the chief and told them I had a large drove of sheep to
take to Montana, and that I must necessarily pass through their hunting