On July 5 we made our last camp on the waters of the Little Blue, and on July 6 drove up onto the divide between this stream and the Platte. Near noon we were halted by one of those sudden downpours of rain which seem to be characteristic of this region. We were traveling on the highest land in sight, but were nearing a depression leading down to the stream we had left in the morning. The water came down so suddenly that the depression became in a few minutes a raging flood. All the drivers were soaked, but the families had the shelter of the wagon covers. The shower stopped as suddenly as it had started, and in order to let the surface water drain away we unhitched the teams and let the oxen in the yokes feed from the lush grass. The sun came out hot and bright, and we were all as gay and cheerful as the light about us. Not a tree or bush was in sight, but a boundless view of grass-covered country. There was a considerable variety of wild flowers, and many of the mothers and daughters amused themselves gathering them. Mrs. Morrison came toward our wagon with some, where a lot of us youngsters were swapping yarns, and said: "Here, you young men, is something that will tell whether you are straight or not. If any of you have left girls behind you you should have treated better, just touch this weed and it will tell on you by wilting. John, you try it first." I stepped toward her and did as she required. The plant wilted, and, figuratively speaking, I wilted, too. It was my first sight of the sensitive plant, and the experiment with it afforded great fun for those present.
We camped that night on the divide between the waters of the west fork of the Little Blue and the Platte. "The distance across is thirty-five or forty miles. The bottoms of the Platte Valley are estimated at eight miles wide.
