blind us for a moment, are followed by thunder that startles and stuns.
"June 4. The storm passed to the south of us, on the other side of the Platte. But daddie has ordered the tents and wagons staked to the ground hereafter every night, as long as we are travelling in these treeless, unsheltered bottom-lands, as he says we would have been swept away en masse into the river if last night's storm had squarely struck our camp."
The hoods of the wagons, so white and clean -at the outset, were now of an ashen hue, disfigured by spots of grease, and askew in many places from damage to their supporting arches of hickory bows. Heavy log-chains, for use in possible emergencies, dangled between axles, and the inevitable tar-bucket rode adjacent on a creaking hook, from which it hung suspended by a complaining iron bail.
"The incessant heat by day, followed by the chilly air of night, is perilous to health, John," said Mrs. Ranger, one evening, as she lay wrapped in blankets in the big family wagon, watching the usual preparations for the evening meal.
He gazed into her pinched, white face with sudden apprehension.
"Don't be afraid of the cholera, dear," he said tenderly. "I understand the nature of the epidemic, and I don't fear it at all. Cholera is a filth disease, and we are guarding against it at every point. Your blood is pure, darling. There's nothing the matter with you but a little debility, the result of past years of overwork. Time and rest and change of climate will cure all that. No uncooked food or unboiled water is used by any of us, and no cold victuals are allowed to be eaten after long exposure to this pernicious, cholera-laden air. You can't get the germs of cholera unless you eat or drink them." .
