<h3>THE WESTWARD RUSH</h3>
<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">We</span> crossed the Missouri on the seventeenth and eighteenth
of May. The next day we made a short drive, and camped
within hearing of the shrill steamboat whistle that
resounded far over the prairie.</div>
<p>The whistle announced the arrival of a steamer. This
meant that a dozen or more wagons could be carried across
the river at a time, and that a dozen or more trips could
be made during the day, with as many more at night. Very
soon we were overtaken by this throng of wagons. They
gave us some troubles, and much discomfort.</p>
<p>The rush for the West was then at its height. The plan
of action was to push ahead and make as big a day's drive
as possible; hence it is not to be wondered at that nearly
all the thousand wagons that crossed the river after we
did soon passed us.</p>
<p>"Now, fellers, jist let 'em rush on. If we keep cool,
we'll overcatch 'em afore long," said McAuley.</p>
<p>And we did. We passed many a team, broken down<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_34" id="Page_34"></SPAN></span>
as a result of those first few days of rush. People often
brought these and other ills upon themselves by their own
indiscretion.</p>
<p>The traveling had not progressed far until there came a
general outcry against the heavy loads and unnecessary
articles. Soon we began to see abandoned property. First
it might be a table or a cupboard, or perhaps a bedstead
or a cast-iron cookstove. Then feather beds, blankets,
quilts, and pillows were seen. Very soon, here and there
would be an abandoned wagon; then provisions, stacks of
flour and bacon being the most abundant—all left as
common property.</p>
<p>It was a case of help yourself if you would; no one would
interfere. In some places such a sign was posted,—"Help
yourself." Hundreds of wagons were left and hundreds of
tons of goods. People seemed to vie with each other in
giving away their property. There was no chance to sell,
and they disliked to destroy their goods.</p>
<p>Long after the end of the mania for getting rid of goods
to lighten loads, the abandonment of wagons continued,
as the teams became weaker and the ravages of cholera
among the emigrants began to tell. It was then that
many lost their heads and ruined their teams by furious
driving, by lack of care, and by abuse. There came a
veritable stampede—a strife for possession of the road, to
see who should get ahead. It was against the rule to
attempt to pass a team ahead; a wagon that had withdrawn
from the line and stopped beside the trail could get into
the line again, but on the march it could not cut ahead
of the wagon in front of it. Yet now whole trains would
strive, often with bad blood, for the mastery of the trail,
one attempting to pass the other. Frequently there were
drivers on both sides of the team to urge the poor, suffering
brutes forward.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_35" id="Page_35"></SPAN></span></p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus-045.jpg" width-obs="500" height-obs="251" alt="The Platte River. Along this old stream the Oregon Trail wound its way for nearly five hundred miles. United States Geological Survey" title="" /> <div class='attrib'>United States Geological Survey</div>
<span class="caption">The Platte River. Along this old stream the Oregon Trail wound its way for nearly five hundred miles.
</span></div>
<p>We were on the trail along the north side of the Platte
River. The cholera epidemic struck our moving column
where the throng from the south side of the Platte began
crossing. This, as I recollect, was near where the city of
Kearney now stands, about two hundred miles west of
the Missouri River.</p>
<p>"What shall we do?" passed from one to another in
our little family council.</p>
<p>"Now, fellers," said McAuley, "don't lose your heads,
but do jist as you've been doing. You gals, jist make your
bread as light as ever, and we'll take river water the same
as ever, even if it is most as thick as mud, and boil it."</p>
<p>We had all along refused to dig little wells near the
banks of the Platte, as many others did; for we had soon
learned that the water obtained was strongly charged
with alkali, while the river water was comparatively pure,
except for the sediment, so fine as seemingly to be held
in solution.</p>
<p>"Keep cool," McAuley continued. "Maybe we'll have
to lay down, and maybe not. Anyway, it's no use frettin'.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_36" id="Page_36"></SPAN></span>
What's to be will be, 'specially if we but help things
along."</p>
<p>This homely yet wise counsel fell upon willing ears, as
most of us were already of the same mind. We did just
as we had been doing, and all but one of our party escaped
unharmed.</p>
<p>We had then been in the buffalo country for several
days. Some of the young men, keen for hunting, had made
themselves sick by getting overheated and drinking
impure water. Such was the experience of my brother
Oliver. Being of an adventurous spirit, he could not
restrain his ardor, gave chase to the buffaloes, and fell
sick almost to death.</p>
<p>This occurred just at the time when we encountered
the cholera panic. It must be the cholera that had taken
hold of him, his companions argued. Some of his party
could not delay.</p>
<p>"It is certain death," I said, "to take him along in that
condition."</p>
<p>They admitted this to be true.</p>
<p>"Divide the outfit, then," it was suggested.</p>
<p>Two of Oliver's companions, the Davenport brothers,
would not leave him; so their portion of the outfit was set
aside with his. This gave the three a wagon and a team.</p>
<p>Turning to Buck, I said, "I can't ask you to stay with
me."</p>
<p>The answer came back as quick as a flash, "I'm going
to stay with you without asking."</p>
<p>And he did, too, though my brother was almost a total
stranger to him.</p>
<p>We nursed the sick man for four days amidst scenes
of death and excitement such as I hope never again to see.
On the fifth day we were able to proceed and to take the
convalescent man with us.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_37" id="Page_37"></SPAN></span></p>
<p>The experience of our camp was the experience of hundreds
of others: there were countless incidents of friends
parting; of desertion; of noble sacrifice; of the revelation
of the best and the worst in man.</p>
<p>In a diary of one of these pioneers, I find the following:
"Found a family consisting of husband, wife, and four
small children, whose cattle we supposed had given out
and died. They were here all alone, and no wagon or
cattle in sight." They had been thrown out by the owner
of a wagon and left on the road to die.</p>
<p>From a nearby page of the same diary, I read: "Here
we met Mr. Lot Whitcom, direct from Oregon. Told me
a great deal about Oregon. He has provisions, but none
to sell; but gives to all he finds in want, and who are unable
to buy."</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus-047.png" width-obs="225" height-obs="275" alt="Help Yourself" title="" /></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_38" id="Page_38"></SPAN></span></p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus-048.png" width-obs="500" height-obs="297" alt="Pioneers on the march." title="" /> <span class="caption">Pioneers on the march.</span></div>
<h2>CHAPTER SIX</h2>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />