time in turning and starting for the wagons, and yelling to the boys for help. The Indians were fairly laying on the necks of their horses as they took after me, giving their war whoops. This yelling was enough to scare a man to death. I was thinking as I was running where to strike the slough to find it narrow enough so I could jump it. Fortune was with me and I struck it where it was about five feet across, gave as good a jump as I could and barely made it, the bank giving way under my feet, but I soon recovered myself and pressed on, yelling to the boys all the time. In the jump I lost my gun in the water. I did not try to recover it, and I could see our men hastening toward me, and they were calling to me to keep running. But my determination was not to stop here. As I ran I fairly stumbled onto the partly decomposed body of a full grown Indian buck, the remains probably having been buried there and dug up by the wolves. The body was at about a half sitting position. I just got one glance at his long black hair and big Roman nose as I jumped over his remains and kept right on towards my men, As soon as I met the boys, the Indians, appreciating the situation, turned on their horses and rode away across the river. The boys recovered my gun.
   After we had continued our journey and traveled a short distance we met a vary large company of freighters, bound for Denver. They traveled in two strings, over a quarter of a mile long, the rigs being side by side, with just enough space between for the driver to walk. The walking inside was preferred, as it was something of a protection from the redskins. The company had cattle teams with heavily loaded wagons. They told us there was a large freighting train just ahead from Montana, and that we had better press on and drive nights and try and overtake it. We arrived at Cottonwood the next day and found quite a number of our old friends there soldiering, ex-"crack" company men and others, and the officers insisted that we stop until we got a larger company. We insisted upon going an and, for a second time, the matter was submitted to a vote, the women also voting. It was voted unanimously to go ahead and some of our friends offered to escort us until after dark and then, if there was no trouble, they could slip back. We drove about seven miles and camped, giving the friends their supper and they remained with us until about 10:00 o'clock. We drove along a day or two.,
   When we camped for Saturday night our two white friends and the negro concluded they would cut loose from us and make a dash to overtake the Montana mule train. After supper they pulled out, and they made the mistake of their ives (sic) by doing it. We regretted to have the men leave as this cut us down to eleven men again. When we arose, Sunday morning, it was quite cold.

   A rule was that when starting, the driver of the first team, whoever that might be for the time, was to get his team out first, as the other teams fell in better with a lead team out. Of course we did not start until all were ready. When ready the word to go was given and we kept together at all times. When the word was given to start that morning Mrs. Hayes and I were walking a short distance in the lead of the teams. There was some little hitch in getting it started. some little delay, and, it being chilly and we walking along pretty spryly (sic), did not notice we were gaining on the teams.
   We had perhaps walked some two miles when we observed we were fully a quarter of a mile ahead of the teams. We slackened our gait as we approached the remains of what had been a big sod or dobe ranch house, having the appearance of long been built, as having been through a fire, for the mud walls only were standing. In looking down the road we noted a covered wagon standing there, the party evidently being headed towards the bluffs, and we thought it looked like the rig of our friends who had left us the night before. There were no animals harnessed to it. However, we did not dare to go up to it until our company caught up. And then, as we looked towards the bluffs we saw about fifteen or twenty Indians coming off the bluffs and headed between us and the teams. Our drivers saw them at about the same time, and, jumping on their wagon tongues between the cattle, applied their whips and got the oxen on the run, at the same time the men of our party yelling to us to come back. I was not much alarmed, but. upon reaching for my navy revolvers to my great horror I discovered I was unarmed. I had left my weapons in the wagon.
   I told Mrs. Hayes we would run for our lives and then I took her by the arm and we covered space as fast as we could. The Indians had about half a mile to come and we had about a quarter of a mile between us and the rigs, both the rigs and ourselves moving towards each other. The Indians soon noticed they were outwitted and they stopped for a moment, wheeled their horses about and disappeared over the bluffs. Before I had left the wagon I had been to the rig to change for a heavier coat and had left my two navy revolvers on the seat. With these we could have gotten into the sod house and probably held the redskins off until our party reached us. We went and examined the covered wagon and sure enough it was the one we thought it to be. The Indians had run the men off and taken their effects out of the wagon, had dumped their trunks out on the ground, opened them and had taken what they wanted. We could see the tracks of the two white men and negro in the sand where they had ran away from their rig, and this gave us hope to believe they had escaped in the dark. The horses were gone but the har-

ness was just where our friends had apparently left it. We were undecided about taking the wagon along, but thought we had better leave it, believing our friend would return to get it.
   Along this place the main road runs very close to the river for a considerable distance. About the time we started we looked across the river and saw a big band of Indians lining up along the bank. We could see fifty or more of them, all mounted and every few minutes other Indians and horses would put in an appearance, usually the last to come prancing their horses about. The string of men soon began to get pretty long, and we knew it meant fight. Of course we began to hurriedly lay our plans, and we sent a man or two both up and down the river to get a lineup, on the river banks, the water being rather low. The main channel of the stream was on our side and fortunately for us, the banks of the river on our side were steep and from eight to ten feet high. just below the walls of the burned out ranch there was a space of about thirty feet on each side of the river where the banks had been cut down, looking as though there had been a ford there. We presumed the Indians intended to use this place to cross and so we quickly ran our wagons down to this point on our side, stopping within ten feet of the beginning of the sloping ground, and chained our wagons together. We then hustled the women and children into the wagon with the best sideboards and protection, and made a location for each of our men to take in the fighting. Every gun and other shooting iron was examined and loaded and the ammunition was placed where it would be handy. All the time we were watching what was going on with the party on the other side of the river, and it can scarcely be said we saw much to encourage us.
   By this time there were about 100 Indians there, horses standing abreast. Finally they proceeded down into the river bed, the river being nearly a half mile wide here, and each chief or head man in front of the Indians was waving a small red flag from a stick in his hand, which, with the moving horses, made it look as though there was twice the number of reds. We kept right on preparing for them as they approached, the men fortifying themselves as best they could. All stood back of the wagons and some took the endgates and stood them up on ends and leaned them against the wagons in this way protecting their legs under the wagon. We were armed with 13 navies, shooting six times to the rifles; 5 rifles, 3 double barreled shotguns, 4 single barrel shotguns and several single shot pistols, over shots all told without reloading. Our plan was to open on them with the long distance rifles, and we felt they could never get to our bank. But, if they did, we would continue the fighting with anything that would shoot. Our hope was to hit one or more of their number hile (sic) they were some distance away,

for they had scattered in the river bed. If you shoot an Indian his comrades will always gather about him, and they will not let him fall into the hands of an enemy, if it can be helped, and they invariably take their dead and wouded (sic) with them when they leave the field of battle.
   You can probably imagine the suspense as the red devils advanced slowly toward us. And it is times like these when many men lose their heads. For instance, Joe Caywood, a man who ordinarily knew no fear, same rushing up to me and said "Jolly, give me a cap. I'm loaded but haven't any caps." My response was "Joe, look at your gun. You've got three caps on there now." Finally we noticed some of the Indians riding in the rear turn their horses about to return to the bank on their side of the stream. Then the men in advance, the chiefs or whoever they might be, began issuing firm orders and riding about waving their flags in the air. But the Indians kept right on turning about until the most of them were headed the other way. Then we got bold, and you may depend upon it we felt relieved. We felt like daring them to fight, but concluded silence would probably be best for us at that particular time, for fully twenty-five reds were still coming our way and kept coming until within 100 yards of us.
   When that near they stopped and consulted a moment, and then turned and rode bak (sic). It was our turn then and some of our men sent a few shots at the retreating redskins and all shouted "Cowards!" Cowards!" Although a dozen or more shots were fired at them, they were too far away to be hit by us. However we made them bustle out of the river bed. When all had gathered on the other side we could see they were ready to move and thought they might proceed down the river where they could find a more advantageous place to cross and then attack us from the land side. That would have been a different matter. We held our position only until they started down the river, and then we hustled up and followed them, going down the river on our side, keeping opposite them the best we could, expecting to use the same tactics in keeping them from coming across again, if things favored the plan. This was about noon and we naturally presumed they would keep us moving and attack us at night. This thought was not altogether rosy. When we had traveled this way for about an hour we came to a small raise on the land on our side and when at the top of it could see a low valley ahead, and, to our great delight, the big Montana camp could be seen in be distance. As we drew near this camp who should come running to meet us but our two white friends and the negro.
   Our attacking party observed the camp as soon as we did, and disappeared in the hills. Besides the friends other men come out from the camp and asked us to join them for the night, and

we did. Our three friends gave their experiences of the previous night and the gentleman of color; holding up a big jug of whiskey he had secured in Denver exclaimed "I tell ye, Boss, dey done took everything but de whiskey, an I sure sabed that." The jug which had not had the seal broken on it, was then passed around, and the liquor went about as far as a drop of water would in the Sahara desert. After dinner a volunteer company of thirty men was made up, and taking teams and wagons, went back and got the wagon our friends had lost the night before. They got back to camp with it about dark.
   This Montana company was made up of about 100 men and sixty-four mule teams, some of the men having hired passage east with the outfit traveling all the way from Montana to the Missouri river this way. The company was well organized, keeping out eight guards every night, four for the camp and four for the stock. They ran their wagons close together, forming a square of about an acre, and camp activities, including the cooking, was within this square. Each guard had a double-barreled shotgun and a good revolver, the gun being loaded with buckshot. In the circle they kept big fires and engaged in amusements, such as fiddling, singing and other music, dancing and gambling. All this, and cooking, could be carried on until midnight, when all had to turn in and lights be put out. It must be admitted this rule was not enforced to the letter, for gambling was carried on until as late as 2:00 o'clock in the morning.
   It was agreed that we were to travel with the Montana party and as their mules would walk faster than our cattle, they were to keep checked up so we could keep up with them. This went well for a few days, but got old. The men who had hired their passage kicked on the lost time, claiming we were traveling too slow. One thing brought on another until we informed the party we had never joined them. We had simply camped near them and had joined in their sports at night, but inasmuch as they had no ladies in their party, we had kept in our own little clan. However, it must be admitted they had been kind and considerate to our women and children, as well as to the men. There came something of indifference the Montana men not seeming to pay us much attention as they had, and, as we were then approaching Plum Creek, twenty-five miles from Fort Kearney, we cast away for ourselves.
   The last day we traveled with the Montana party we passed at Mallala's ranch at sundown. The indians had been there the night before and attacked the place and made away with all his stock. We examined the cabin door, and it had been shot full of holes, but Pat and his men escaped through a back window. As darkness approached we could see the Montana outfit camped down the road about three-quarters of a mile, and, as we knew

from the evidence at the Mallala ranch and from other sources, we were in dangerous country. I am not going to say that our thoughts of the big party had entirely escaped us. Figuring out what we had best do in case of trouble we noted that at the Mallala ranch there were two sides of a stockade, forming a V. We decided to drive cur rigs close up to the V, putting our cattle inside the inclosure, but not taking the yokes off.
   There was not a bite to eat for man or beast that night. The stockade was about 100 yards off the road towards the river. We took our blankets and laid down in front of the wagons on the exposed side, not expecting to get any sleep, for we could but feel that we were going to have trouble that night. The men got close to one another, so close that they could communicate by whispering, so that word could be easily passed along. Our shooting irons were placed to best advantage. We put the women and children in my wagon and fortified them the best we could. It was dark and silent enough with us, but way down the road we could see the lights of the fires of our Montana friends, and we could fairly imagine we could hear their music and chatter.
   In accordance with our expectations along about 11:00 o'clock we ould (sic) hear a party of Indians coming down the road. As they came nearer we could hear the redskins conversing and laughing and could hear the horses' hoofs clatter on the road. It was surely a serious moment with every member of our little party. We prepared to put up a fight for our lives, keeping our heads and keeping perfectly still, for there was nothing else to do. The party came up to a position opposite us, and every moment seemed an age. They did not stop. Hope began to arise in our hearts as we noted the talking and laughing continued and the Indians did not check their horses. They passed on by us. Surely they did not intend to attack the big party! Nevertheless they went out of sight and hearing. Heavens, but the night was calm, and still and full of terror.
   Suddenly this terrible calm was wonderfully broken with a volley of firing and a volume of yelling, cursing. and damning which continued some time. Then all was quiet again, but we could see nothing. The lights of the big camp had been put out. There was nothing for us to do but keep still and wait for whatever might happen, or for daylight - -daylight, ages seemed to pass before it finally came. Then we hitched up our rig and drove down to the Montana camp, and what a sight there was before us! We could scarcely. believe it. The Indians had raided the camp, killed eight men (and their bodies laid side by side on the prairie) wounded twenty more, four seriously. They had taken the last mule. What a sight!
   As soon as they, could our friends dispatched two men to

Plum Creek, and a few soldiers arrived just after we got there. The men showed the soldiers the direction the Indians disappeared in with their mules, and the government men followed them to the foot of the bluff, when they gave up the chase, returning with the excuse that the Indians had too much the start of them.
   The Montana men could scarcely explain how it all happened. They said they were all within the square, with the exception of the guards, when they were attacked. The Indians had crawled up to the party in the dark, the fires burning in the camp, and they were attacked before anyone knew anything about it. The redskins could see all that was going on about the fires and, by some sort of signal, all fired on the campers at once. During the shooting they surrounded the mules and horses and drove them all away, with the exception of four or five that had been shot in the melee. None of the trio of our friends, the two whites and the negro, were hurt, for they were sleeping out to one side in their own wagon. However, one of their horses was so badly shot it had to be killed.
   As soon as we took in the situation we turned our cattle out to grass and then, though none of us had had a bite to eat or a wink of sleep since the noon before, we got busy doing what we could for the wounded and getting something to eat for those who wanted it. We could not help but feel our gratefulness to the Montana party for they had been considerate of us. The wounded men called for coffee and they were first served, for we had plenty of it, and women and men set to work to relieve their distress the best we could. How our friends were appreciating what we were doing for them we could tell by their words and read it in their eyes. When word had been sent to Plum Creek for help men there had wired Fort Kearney of the affair and asked for surgical and medical aid. About 9:00 o'clock two surgeons arrived and then ambulances to take the wounded to the fort, and the wagons and other equipment was to be taken there.
   We remained with the party until about noon, and the government having taken charge and sent a guard of soldiers, we decided we were not needed longer and that we would make a dash for Plum Creek, some six miles on. After going about a mile we came to the ruins of French's ranch, which had been one of the finest on the road. The ranch folks had word the Indians were coming to destroy their buildings and all left with the exception of two men, employes of the ranch. These men hid under the banks of the river to watch developments, and they came thick and fast. The Indians arrived at the ranch and, finding no one at home, proceeded to take possession and ransack the place. They took everything they wanted, including whiskey and tobacco. This was not a stage station, but there was a house

and a saloon on the north side of the road and the stables and corralls, etc., were on the south side. To add to their pleasures the Indians had planned to hold up the stage and kill the driver and occupants, due to pass there at about 1:00 o'clock in the morning.
   And now for a tale of bravery on the part of a fearless stage driver, whose name escapes men, who was bent on saving the lives of his passengers and the property of his company: About half an hour before the stage was due the Indians set fire to the ranch house and then crossed the road and hid in the stables, so they would have a good chance to kill the driver and occupants of the coach as the rig passed between them and the fire. The Indian, you know, is invariably a tricky fellow and he knows no such thing as honor in anything. The coach drivers were furnished with six-shooting navy revolvers and they were so hung near the seat that, by touching a spring, they were ready for immediate use. This coach-load consisted of the driver and a companion on the seat outside and seven men riding inside. As soon as the stage came into the light the Indians opened fire on it, killing the off wheel horse. The driver, being accustomed to such attacks, called to the men in the coach to drop to the floor, which they did. He grabbed his Colts and fired the twelve shots in the direction the firing came from, probably some what frustrating the Indians for a moment. The driver then swung to the ground, loosened the tugs on the dead horse, grabbed his knife -- and they always carried big ones -- and cut the harness worn by the killed critter free from the rig. He then swung back to his seat, cracked his whip over his horses and drove from the scene at breakneck speed. Although the coach was literally bored with bullets from the Indians' firing, not a man was killed, and only three slightly hurt. The Indians took to their heels and bothered no more that night. The coach had been driven to Plum Creek, a considerable distance, with one morse (sic) missing. After looking over the destruction at French's ranch we made a drive ts (sic) the Jenkins company, (think the name was Jenkins), and killed all the men. They had taken Mrs. Jenkins and another woman as prisoners, carrying them away to the mountains and holding them for ransom. We were told the government sent troops after them, following them to Wyoming, where the Indians outwitted Uncle Sam's men, and where a ransom of $20,000 was paid for Mrs. Jenkins. I do not know what became of the other woman. We stopped to look over the fatal battle ground, and there was a large mound there, where the soldiers had buried twelve men in one grave, and there were the ruins of their wagons which had been pushed into a huge fire, all that was remaining of the vehicles being the iron, such as the wheel tires, hub bands, etc. The event had been so recent there were here and there

great pools of blood, where the victims had been murdered. It was a decidely (sic) rguesome (sic) sight. The massacre had been complete; no one left to tell the tale, except Mrs. Jenkins.
   After satisfying our curiosity and viewing the remains of the massacre, you can perhaps imagine that our little party had something of a desire to reach what was known as the "safety zone," Fort Kearney. Everybody was nervous as we started on, and there was an inclination to push the teams to their best, and keep the caravan moving at a trot. No one desired especially to be the hind fellow. And our women and children, who had stood all of the trying ordeal so bravely, now evidenced a desire to get to a place of refuge in all haste, that they might be relieved of the terrible strain of the four weeks. I had been on my feet for forty-eight hours, without a moment of rest or sleep, and the men insisted that I get in a wagon and catch a little sleep, if I could. I did, and, being completely worn out, was dozing away in slumber as one of the men came up to the wagon and told me the roan steer the old man had given me at O'FalIon's Bluff had given out with sore feet and they had left him. I didn't propose to lose the critter if I could help it, and so got out of the wagon and started back after him, telling the men to keep on pressing ahead, to reach Fort Kearney if they could, but, if they could not, to camp near the road and I would find them later. It was then about 3:00 o'clock in the afternoon.
   I could see my steer lying in the road about a half mile back. As we had used all our extra cattle shoes I had none to use on him, but started after him just the same. As I walked away from the caravan and it drove away from me I will have to admit it was not long until I was struck with quite a lonliness (sic). When I got to the steer and looked up the road the teams were nearly out of sight. I began to get quite uneasy and asked myself if I had again made a fool of myself. Well, I worked with the steer, but could do but little with him. Experienced ones will tell you there is nothing that will make a steer give up quicker than to get worn or sore feet. It was with difficulty I could get him on his feet, and he simply didn't seem to be able to walk. I coaxed and did everything I could, and finally got him to walk just a little -- and then down he went again. As I worked on him I kept watch of the bluffs for the appearance of Indians, deciding to make for the river if they appeared. I wore myself out working with the animal and finally went into the weeds and laid down, seeming to lose a sense of fear for a time. Still I kept my eyes on the bluffs. Finally just before sundown, I could see about half a mile away four or five Indians riding over the bluffs. I struck for the river, running into a buffalo trail which helped me on my way. I expected to wade the river, knowing the water was not deep, but as I came down to the water I noticed, the

water had cut the river bank until the bank hung over for three or four feet. This looked like a good place to hide in and I waded under the bank, and, as the water was low, by stooping, I could get quite a way up under this projecting bank. I remained right there until after sundown, and as I heard nothing of the Indians, I concluded to take a peep at the lay of the land and stuck my head above ground and looked all up and down the river. I could see nothing, but the steer was still lying where I left him. I took no chances but remained hid until after dark, then ventured forth again, worked with the steer some more, but had to give up the job. The poor critter was simply beyond going. When it got good and dark I started to find my party, and it was something of a task, I warrant you. It was so dark I could scarcely stay in the road. Once in a while I would stop and listen for the noise of horses hoofs, or wolves, or whatever, and then I would trudge on again. Were you ever in a place so silent that there were "noises" when there were absolutely no audible sounds? This was the very place. I kept on, and thought it must be after midnight and that I had probably walked ten miles when the terrible silence was broken by the discharge of a gun. I felt sure it was a signal gun from our men, as that was a practice with the travelers, and I had my revolvers strapped at my side. But I was afraid to answer for fear I might be giving away myself to the Indians, and walked on. Finally I could see something of a fire, and the gun was exploded again. It turned out to be my party. I answered with a shot and the men came up the road to meet me. The only explanation I could offer for myself was that I had simply "been a fool again." The company had driven hard until they came to a new ranch house kept by a bachelor. He had assured them they were then out of the danger section, for Fort Kearney was but six miles ahead. They had decided to wait for me. Upon my arrival we camped for the night. I made arrangements with the ranchman to get my steer and keep him until I returned that way in the spring, but in the spring the ranch had been dstroyed (sic).
   Early the next morning we were again on the way and drove to Fort Kearney. We asked the officers in charge where we should camp, and they directed us to a good spot down the river probably a half mile or so. We went into camp, took a nice rest and then began to investigate things. We took the women up to show them the coach which had been bullet-riddled in the attack at French's ranch. In looking it over it seemed miraculous that a single man escaped death, it was so full of bullet holes. And too, the Indians must have had some powerful guns, for the two inch frame work of oak was riddled into splinters in places. The harness was there, with its cut straps where the brave driver had loosened the rig from the dead horse. It was said the coach

passengers presented the driver whose first name was "Andy" with a substantial purse when they got to a point of saftey (sic).
   In progressing on east we had decided to take the Nebraska City route, as the Little Blue route was said to be very dangerous owing to the Indian depredations, and there was no trouble at all on the route we had selected. A little company of returning freighters decided to join us, and we all left Fort Kearney together. The morning was chilly and the drivers, or at least some of them, were walking by their teams, the teams being strung out single file. We had not traveled much of a distance until we noted a company of mounted soldiers following us, and the men came riding at a good pace. There were about thirty of the government men, and they seemed in the best of spirits and jollied with us. They had ridden a mile or so with us when a lieutenant, or someone who seemed to be in command, cried for us to halt, and announced in a loud voice that he was sorry to stop the whole company, but that someone in the party had been taking government property. This was a serious offence (sic), as he announced and we knew, and the officer was of the opinion the property was in some of our wagons. We felt quite humiliated to think that after the government men at the fort had treated its so nicely, they would suspect us of making away with their property. We wondered who the guilty one or ones could possibly be. Just then two soldiers rode from towards the rear of the party to a position near the officer and held up an old government blanket, the letter "U. S." plainly stamped on it, and a stick of cord wood, claiming they had gotten them out of the last wagon.
   Well, there we were, with a keen desire to travel on east, but "caught with the goods," and a probable return to the fort for investigation, and no telling what. The officer stated he guessed he would have to take us back and turn us over to the authorities Some of our men wanted to go back to the rear wagon and mob the driver. The driver, in turn, professed his innocence.
   Then for a little "dickering." Some one asked the soldiers what they would take to let us off. Bribery? Oh, well. The commanding officer looked up and down the line of teams, and, as there was about thirty of us, he thought about $50.00 would be right, his decision being reached after apparently considerable deliberation and conferring with his associates. The money came pouring in from our men faster than the officer could count it, and, after he felt assured he had enough, the soldiers gave us a "good-bye" and galloped back to the fort.
   And we were a nicely strung little bunch of "goslings," as we learned in after years, for this little trick was frequently practiced by the soldiers on unsophisicated (sic) travelers, to supply the government's men with whiskey and tobacco. The trick was for the last of the number to drop the "government property" in

the rear wagon and then "recover it." Worry not about any report of the affair reaching the higher ups at the fort.
   After we got away from the troops we followed the Platte river until we came to "Lone Tree," which was the place where the trail left the Platte and cut across country to Nebraska City, crossing Salt Creek somewhere near the present site of Lincoln. It went on to what was known as "the little brick postoffice," near the present site of Syracuse, and then on to Nebraska City. The following morning we broke company, each one to go to his respective home. As Mrs. Hayes and I owned the most of the rigs in our particular outfit we loaned Joe Caywood two yoke of cattle and a wogan (sic) to take his family to the home near Council Bluffs. We all parted with the most kindly feeling for each other, after traversing over 500 miles with ox teams, through the most dangerous trails ever known to this country, withstanding all kinds or trials and without an unkind word having been spoken by a single person, and not a scratch of injury to a soul. Soon after reaching Nebraska, Mrs. Hayes' younger daughter died.
   I have often wondered why the Indians would pass us by, as they did at Pat Mallala's ranch, a little company of eleven men, and attack a company of over 100 well armed men, splendidly organized. The reasons are probably that they did not care for our oxen, and, at the Mallala ranch, had they laid our company low, the noise would have put the men in the big company on their guard and they would have put up a bitter fight. We did not have much they cared for, though the women and children might have been quite an object. But generally we camped in the dark, and always kept the feminine members of the party out of sight as best we could, for, you must understand the freighters' wagons were always covered, true "prairie schooner" style.
   Well, I appreciate that my story is long, but I hope it has not been without some interest to you. Generally, after all these years, the experience which I have recited here seem like dreams to me, and yet there are times they come to we as vividly as though they had happened but recently. Certainly the hand of Time -- and man -- bring about wonderful transformations. A little more than half a century has passed since my little party wended it way slowly across the desert plains -- habitation scarcely known all the way -- from Denver to Nebraska City, the hazardous travel being hard for five weeks' time. Now the trip is made in but a day, and from the palatial steel parlor car windows you view the vast acres of rich farms and fine homes, to say nothing of the magnificient (sic) cities and towns, traversing almost the same route, you might say, that my little party took, and dotting here and there the many, many places where the brave white men of that day fought to the death the savage men of the plains of a new country. Surely 'tis great to have lived in this century.

   *Printed first by the Tecumseh Chieftain which contained the following:
   William C. Jolly of Tecumseh spent a number of years on the plains, and in the west, just before and during the period of the civil war, at which time the Indians made Uncle Sam lots of trouble, as is well known to most people, particularly those conversant with the history of this section of that period. Those were the days of the stage coach, the pony express and the ox-drawn freighters, and people crossing the plains were subject to great hardships, particularty (sic) at the hands of the hostile Indians. Mrs. Hayes, of which Mr. Jolly writes, became his wife, October 18, 1864, the marriage being at Nebraska City. Her, father, Robert Prince, brought his family to Johnson county in the year 1855, and located in Spring Creek precinct, an early settlement here. The following year, with his son, Stephen, Mr. Prince went to the mill at "Podunk," a trading station on the Little Nemaha, near the present town of Brock, to get flour for the family, the trip being undertaken on a very cold, winter day, and they were lost in a blizzard and frozen to death. The daughter, Mary Jane, was married to Mr. Harvey L. Hayes in 1806, and Mr. Hayes, as Mr. Jolly's story recites, died in Colorado in 1863, being a victim of an Idaho Springs desperado. Mrs. Jolly died here March 11, 1916. -- Tecumseh Chieftian (sic).