Willmar tribune. [volume] (Willmar, Minn.) 1895-1931, 1905-03-22
UNDER A
BUFFALO RUN

II Eunice told her that the little sill
Yer milking had been brought over
from France more than century and a
half ago. To be sure. closer examina-
ton showed that it bore coat-of-armS,
presumptive evidence that it had once
been beautiful and valued. But now
how very sad and shabby it seemed!
"All these dents and pinches make it
look like a little goblin with his nose
askew!" Gladys said.
Then Grandma Eunice told her how
the silver milk-jug had gained it's scars
and become souvenir OF an experience
that few persons would care to undergo.
l was born in York state. but when ]
was two years old father took the west
ern fever, and there was nothing to do
but to pull up stakes and go to the north
west corner of Iowa-he and his mar
ried brother and sister, and my grand
parents Decoster, the owners of the
milking.
They didn't make much by moving,
but they "stuck it out" in Iowa for six
years. Then when was eight years
old-that was along in the forties-
Uncle Zeruiah started the notion that
Kansas was the only place for farmer.
So off we all went again. this time joined
by two of our neighbors, Mr.. Tucker and
Mr.. Dakes. and their families.
We travelled in train of great wag-
ons. or "prairie-schooners" Mr.. Dakes'
was drawn by span of large mules
fuckers folks had a pair of horses;
Uncle Zeruiah had an OK and a horse
hitched tandem. father had mule and
a horse hitched together, and Aunt
Louisa's husband had two big spotted
horses-beauties!
In the wagons we carried all the
household goods they would hold. To
the tail of almost every wagon a COW
was hitched. Aunt Louisa's husband
had a big hog named Peleg and sheep
named Bouncer that he couldn't be pre-
vailed upon to part with, so he took them
along instead of COW.
Our years wool was in canvas sacks
on the tops of the wagons. The sides
of the wagons were hung with copper.
porringers, tin bakers, frying pans and
brass kettles. 1t was as Odd-lookiu2
caravan as ever was seen, guess!
The milk-jug went with us, but not
among the kitchen ware. It travelled in
an old sea-chest, and that was filed
with linen that mother had spun and
woven and the quilts and comfortables
that we girls-even had helped TO
make
We got over the ground very slowly
We used to start early in the morning,
and in the middle Of the day were al
ways glad to find some water hole in
4 dried-up creek, where we could picket
our stock and halt for dinner. 1t was
dreadfully hot and dry. and on days of
moonlight nights we made long noon
ing and travelled very late.
Adventures? Who ever crossed the
plains in the days before the railroad
without having adventures?
One night we were attacked by wolves.
which came pretty near carrying oil
Peleg: the fat pig. Another night our
sentinel aroused us to run from prai-
RE fire that would surely have over
whelmed us in the end had not the wine,
opportunity shifted. 1t was only two
days after this that we had narrower
escape. that of which the silver milk-tuS
is a reminder
We had set out at dawn that morning.
for it was growing hotter every day.
That meant that 1t was dryer, too, and
the difficulty of getting feed and waite:
for animals was greater. Even the wa
ter holes in some of the creeks had now
disappeared.
We had come upon creek where there
was hole containing little warm anG
muddy water. Near the north bank o.
the creek we found a few punches OF
greasewood for our campfire. A half