The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1912-02-23

who had two wagons, heavy Conesto- ga freight wagon or prairie schooner, and lighter vehicle without a cover. We arranged with these men and their cook as to our share in the mess box and so threw in our dunnage with theirs, Auberry and I purchasing us a good horse apiece. By noon of the next day we were on our way west ward.
 At last we approached the valley of the Platte. We were coming now in deed into the great plains, of which had heard all my youth A new at mosphere seemed to invest the world. The talk of my companions was of things new and wild and strange to me All my old life seemed to be slip ping back of me. into a far oblivion. Many things became more clear to me as I rode and reflected. In some way, I know not how, it seemed to me that l was growing older.
 We had been out more than two weeks when finally we reached the great valley along which lay the west ern highway of the old Oregon trail now worn deep and dusty by countless wheels. We pushed up the main trail of the Platte but a short distance that night.
 We looked forward to meeting hu- man faces with some pleasure. But an hour or so later as we rode on I saw Auberry pull up his horse, with a strange tightening of his lips. "Boys," said he. there's where it was" His pointing finger showed nothing more than a low line of ruins, bits of bro ken fencing, a heap of half charred timbers.
 They've been here" said Auberry grimly. Who'd have thought the Sioux would be this far east?"
 We rode up to the station, guessing what we would see. Five dead horses lay near by, part of the stage stock kept there. We kept our eyes as long as we could from what we knew must next be seen-the bodies of the agent and his two stablemen, mutilated and half consumed, under the burned out timbers. l saw the bodies, for the lower limbs of all three had been dismembered and cast in a heap near where the bodies of the horses lay.
 The third day passed until the sun sank toward the sand dunes and cast a long path of light across the rippling shallows among the sand bars of the Platte. But still we saw no signs of newcomers. Evening was approach ing when we heard the sound of dis tant shot and saw our horse guard running toward the camp. As he ap- preached he pointed. and we saw a faint cloud of dust coming toward as. The travellers were horsemen. perhaps oil came the dust whitened top of an ar my ambulance and several camp wag- ons. We hesitated no longer and quickly mounting our horses rode full speed toward them.
 They were a seasoned lot of Har- ney's frontier fighters, grirued and grizzled. their hats, boots and clothing gray with dust, but their weapons bright. Their leader approached me when I rode up.
 Lieutenant Belknap!' I exclaimed. 'Do you remember meeting me down at Jeferson?"
 ''Why. Mir. Cowles. how on earth did you get here2 Of course I remem- Der you.'
 'fYes, but how did you get here your. self? You were not on my boat"
 "Orders to take this detachment out to Laramie" he said, "and meet Colo nel Meriwether there"
 Hell not be back? I was hoping to meet him coming east''
 'No.'' said BeIknap: you'll have to go on with us if you wish to see him. I'm afraid the Sioux are bad on be- yond." He turned toward the am bulance. ana glanced that way. There stood near it a tall, angular fg ure. head enshrouded in an enormous sunbonnet.
 "Why, that's my friend, Mandy Me Govern, said I.
 At that moment, descending at the rear of the ambulance, saw the other one.
 It was a young woman who left the step of the ambulance and stood for a moment shading her eyes with her hand and looking out over the shim- mering expanSe of the broad river. All at once the entire landscape was changed. It was not the desert, but civilization, which swept about us. A transfguration had been wrought by one figure, fair to look upon. The swift versatility of my soul was upon the point of calling this as fine a fig ure of young womanhOod as I had ever seen.
 I was about to ask some questions of Belknap when all at once 1 saw