from his room and mounted his horse. The faithful old dog, which had run by the side of his master in hundreds of journeys along blind trails, was to be permitted to accompany them, barked impatiently.
They were off, an imposing little cavalcade with Whitman and General Lovejoy in the lead, the Indians led by old Istikus following, the pack mules in the rear, while the old dog ran barking up and down the line as if he was responsible commander of the entire outfit.
I have many times in the years since stood upon the ground of this historic scene, and tried to picture it in my mind, in the full grandeur of its intentions and achievements. I have since marched with great armies with music and banners, bright equipments, guns gleaming in the sunlight and their pageantry was imposing, but I most like to catch the spirit of the history they were all making, and it has seemed as if this little band in the wilderness, made up of Christian and savage life was, even in its simplicity, more notably an expression of God's leadings, when I view them in the light of the great events which followed.
Nor can the reader forget to honor the heroic little Christian American woman, who looking through her tear-dimmed eyes, as she waved farewells to her departing husband until the hills away toward the Blue Mountains hid him from view.
