It is now thirteen days since we crossed the Big Blue. We laid by two days in all. This has been a cloudy day and cool. Two antelopes were killed to-day, one by the general, and the other by Louis Crawford (the general's brother-in-law). ——— This camp is six miles up the Platte from where we struck the bottom about six miles east of where Fort Kearney was built. Here are bones of buffaloes and other animals in abundance, so I have called it 'The Valley of Dried Bones.' To-day a man having seen us from the river, called on us as we passed. He was going down the river with three flatboats from the upper country, laden with furs. Captain Saunders talked with him." So reads the aged preacher's journal, which I depend on for dates.
Here I had an experience with antelopes. My detail for hunting fell on that day and I left camp early, just as the trains started. I was soon among the sand hills bounding the south edge of the Platte bottom. Antelopes I saw in plenty, but always running. Several times I tried to get a shot by riding one side of a hill while the game passed on the other, but repeatedly failed. I finally followed one at sight till it seemed to get over its alarm, and tied my horse so as to approach it on foot cautiously around a hill, but higher up than the game. Getting around the hill and cautiously looking where I expected to see the one, I was surprised to see eight instead. But they were too far off for a successful shot. I only took a glimpse, then dodged back and got my horse, and quickly made my way as far as I dared, not to disturb my splendid game, on horseback. There I tied my animal, and carefully made my approach, expecting every moment to meet the wary creatures and have a point blank shot—certain out of the eight antelopes of getting one, or perhaps more. I was a little past where I expected to see my game, when an added step brought in view eight white moving ob-
