<h3>THE END OF THE LONG TRAIL</h3>
<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">I was</span> glad enough to get out of the crowds of New York.
It had given me some rich experiences, but that big city
is no place for ox teams. It was good to get away from the
jam and the hurry out on to the country roads.</div>
<p>On the way to Philadelphia, between Newark and
Elizabeth City, New Jersey, at a point known as Lyon's
Farm, the old Meeker homestead stood, built in the
year 1676. Here the Meeker Tribe, as we call ourselves,
came out to greet me, nearly forty strong.</p>
<p>On the way through Maryland we saw a good many
oxen, some of them driven on the road. The funny part
of it was to have the owners try to trade their scrawny<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_220" id="Page_220"></SPAN></span>
teams for Dave and Dandy, offering money to boot, or
two yoke for one. They had never before seen such large
oxen as Dave and Dandy, and for that matter I never had
myself. Dandy was of unusual size, and Dave was probably
the largest trained ox in the United States then; he was
sixteen hands high and eight feet in girth.</p>
<p>I reached Washington, the capital, just twenty-two
months to the day from the time I left home in Washington,
the state. As soon as arrangements could be made
I went to see President Roosevelt. Senator Piles and
Representative Cushman, of the Washington Congressional
delegation, introduced me to the President in the cabinet
room.</p>
<p>Mr. Roosevelt manifested a lively interest in the work
of marking the trail. He did not need to be told that the
trail was a battlefield, or that the Oregon pioneers who
moved out and occupied the Oregon Country while it was
yet in dispute between Great <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Britian'">Britain</ins> and the United States
were heroes. When I suggested that they were "the
winners of the Farther West," he fairly snatched these
words from my lips. He went even further than I had
dreamed of or hoped for, in invoking Government aid to
carry on the work. Addressing Senator Piles, the President
said with emphasis: "I am in favor of this work to
mark this trail. If you will bring before Congress a measure
to accomplish it, I am with you and will give my support
to do it thoroughly."</p>
<p>Mr. Roosevelt thought the suggestion of a memorial
highway should first come from the states through which
the trail runs. However, it would be possible to get Congressional
aid to mark the trail. In any event, he felt it
ought to be done speedily.</p>
<p>Unexpectedly the President asked, "Where is your team?
I want to see it."<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_221" id="Page_221"></SPAN></span></p>
<p>Upon being told that it was nearby, without ceremony,
and without his hat, he was soon alongside, asking questions
faster than they could be answered, not idle questions,
but such as showed his intense desire to get real information,
bottom facts.</p>
<p>President Roosevelt was a man who loved the pioneers
and who understood the true West. His warm welcome
remains in my heart as one of the richest rewards of the
many that have come as compensation for my struggle to
carry out my dream.</p>
<p>On the eighth of January, 1908, I left Washington,
shipping my outfit over the Allegheny Mountains to
McKeesport, Pennsylvania. From McKeesport I drove to
Pittsburgh, and there put the team into winter quarters to
remain until the fifth of March. Thence I shipped by boat
on the Ohio River to Cincinnati, stopping in that city but
one day, and from there I shipped by rail to St. Louis,
Missouri.</p>
<p>My object now was to retrace the original trail from its
beginnings to where it joined the Oregon Trail, over
which I had traveled. This trail properly ran by water from
St. Louis to Independence, thence westward along the
Platte to Fort Laramie.</p>
<p>At Pittsburgh and adjacent cities I was received cordially
and encouraged to believe that the movement to
make a great national highway had taken a deep hold in
the minds of the people.</p>
<p>I was not so much encouraged in St. Louis. The city
officers were unwilling to do anything to further the movement,
but before I left the city, the Automobile Club and
the Daughters of the American Revolution did take formal
action indorsing the work. St. Louis had really been the
head and center of the movement that finally established
the original Oregon Trail. It was from here that Lewis<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_222" id="Page_222"></SPAN></span>
and Clark started on the famous expedition of 1804-05 that
opened up the Northwest. Here was where Wyeth, Bonneville,
and others of the early travelers on the trail had outfitted.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus-232.jpg" width-obs="475" height-obs="359" alt="The homeward trip took us through the great industrial cities of the Middle states, among them Pittsburgh." title="" /> <div class="attrib">Brown Bros.</div>
<span class="caption">The homeward trip took us through the great industrial cities of the Middle states, among them Pittsburgh.</span></div>
<p>The drive from St. Louis to Jefferson City, the capital of
the State of Missouri, was tedious and without result other
than that of reaching the point where actual driving began
in early days. Governor Folk signified his approval of the
work, and I was given a cordial hearing by the citizens.</p>
<p>On the fourth of April I arrived at Independence, Missouri,
which is generally understood to be the eastern
terminus of the Santa <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Fe'">Fé</ins> Trail. I found, however, that
many of the pioneers had shipped farther up the Missouri,
some driving from Atchison, some from Leavenworth,
others from St. Joseph. At a little later period, multitudes
had set out from Kanesville (now Council Bluffs), where
Whitman and Parker made their final break with civilization<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_223" id="Page_223"></SPAN></span>
and boldly turned their faces westward for the unknown
land of Oregon.</p>
<p>The <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Sante Fe'">Santa Fé</ins>; and Oregon trails from Independence and
Kansas City were identical for forty miles or thereabouts,
out to the town of Gardner, Kansas. From there the
Santa <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Fe'">Fé</ins> Trail bore on to the west and finally to the southwest,
while the Oregon Trail bore steadily on to the northwest
and encountered the Platte valley below Grand
Island in what is now Nebraska. At the forks of the road,
the historian Chittenden says, "a simple signboard was
seen which carried the words 'Road to Oregon,' thus pointing
the way for two thousand miles. No such signboard
ever before pointed the road for so long a distance, and
probably another such never will."</p>
<p>I determined to make an effort to find the spot where
this historic sign once stood, and if possible to plant a
marker there. Friends in Kansas City, one of whom I had
not met for sixty years, took me by automobile to Gardner,
where, after a search of a couple of hours, two old residents
were found who were able to point out the spot. These
men were Mr. V. R. Ellis and Mr. William J. Ott, aged
respectively seventy-seven and eighty-two years, whose
residence in the near vicinity dated back nearly fifty years.
The point is at the intersection of Washington Street and
Central Street in the town of Gardner.</p>
<p>I planned to drive up the Missouri and investigate the
remaining five prongs of the trail—Leavenworth, Atchison,
St. Joseph, Kanesville, and Independence. I drove to
Topeka, the capital city of Kansas, where I arrived the
eleventh of May (1908). There the trail crosses the Kansas
River under the very shadow of the State House, not three
blocks away; yet only a few knew of it.</p>
<p>On the twenty-third of May the team arrived at St.
Joseph, Missouri, a point where many pioneers had outfitted<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_224" id="Page_224"></SPAN></span>
in early days. While public sentiment there was in
hearty accord with the work of marking the trail, yet
plainly it would be a hard tug to get the people together
on a plan to erect a monument. "Times were very tight
to undertake such a work," came the response from so
many that no organized effort was made.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus-234.jpg" width-obs="500" height-obs="339" alt="The ox-team pioneer of 1852 tries the airplane trail in 1921." title="" /> <span class="caption">The ox-team pioneer of 1852 tries the airplane trail in 1921.</span></div>
<p>The committee of Congress in charge of the bill appropriating
fifty thousand dollars to mark the trail, by this
time had taken action and had made a favorable report.
Such a report was held to be almost equivalent to the passage
of a bill. So, all things considered, the conclusion was
reached to suspend operations, ship the team home, and for
the time being take a rest from the work. I had been out
from home twenty-eight months, lacking but five days;
hence it is small wonder that I concluded to listen to the
inner longings to get back to home and home life. On the
twenty-sixth of May I shipped the outfit by rail from
St. Joseph to Portland, Oregon, where I arrived on the
sixth day of June, 1908, and went into camp on the same
grounds I had used in March, 1906, on my outward trip.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_225" id="Page_225"></SPAN></span></p>
<p>As I returned home over the Oregon Short Line I
crossed the old trail in many places. This time, however, it
was with Dave and Dandy quietly chewing their cud in the
car, while I enjoyed all the luxuries of an overland train.</p>
<p>I began vividly to realize the wide expanse of country
covered, as we passed first one and then another of the
camping places. I was led to wonder whether or not I
should have undertaken the work if I could have seen the
trail stretched out, as I saw it like a panorama from the
car window. I sometimes think not. All of us at times undertake
things that look bigger after completion than they
did in our vision of them. We go into ventures without
fully counting the cost. Perhaps that was the case, to a
certain extent, in this venture; the work did look larger from
the car window than from the camp.</p>
<p>Nevertheless, I have no regrets to express or exultation
to proclaim. The trail has not yet been fully or properly
marked. We have made a good beginning, however, and
let us hope the end will soon become an accomplished fact.
Monumenting the old Oregon Trail means more than the
mere preservation in memory of that great highway; it
means the building up of loyalty, of patriotism, as well as
the teaching of our history in a form never to be forgotten.</p>
<p>Words can not express my deep feeling of gratitude for
the royal welcome given me by the citizens of Portland. I
was privileged to attend the reunion of the two thousand
pioneers who had just assembled for their annual meeting.</p>
<p>The drive from Portland to Seattle is also one long to be
remembered; my friends and neighbors met me with kindliest
welcome. On the eighteenth day of July, 1908, I drove
into the city of Seattle and the long journey was ended.
My dream of retracing the way over the Old Trail had
come true.</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus-237.png" width-obs="500" height-obs="284" alt="The White Indian Boy" title="" /></div>
<h2>THE WHITE INDIAN BOY</h2>
<div class='center'><span class="smcap">By E. N. Wilson</span><br/>
<i>In collaboration with Howard R. Driggs</i></div>
<div class='cap'>EVERYONE who knew "Uncle Nick" Wilson was always begging
him to tell about pioneer days in the Northwest. When
"Uncle Nick" was eight years old, the Wilson family crossed the
plains by ox team. When he was only twelve, he slipped away
from home to travel north with a band of Shoshones with whom
he wandered about for two years, sharing all the experiences of
Indian life. Later, after he had returned home, he was a pony
express rider, he drove a stage on the Overland route, and he
acted as guide in an expedition against the Gosiute Indians.</div>
<p>"Uncle Nick" knew pioneer life and he knew the heart of the
Indian. So Mr. Driggs persuaded him to write his recollections
and helped him to make his story into a book that is a true record
of pioneering and of Indian life with its hardships and adventures.</p>
<p><i>The White Indian Boy</i> is an exciting, true story that has interested
many boys and girls and contributed to their understanding of
the early history of the West.</p>
<div class='center'>
<i>Cloth. xii + 222 pages. Illustrated. Price $1.20</i><br/>
WORLD BOOK COMPANY<br/>
<small><span class="smcap">Yonkers-on-Hudson, New York</span></small><br/>
<small><span class="smcap">2126 Prairie Avenue, Chicago</span></small><br/></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus-238.png" width-obs="425" height-obs="239" alt="The Bullwhacker" title="" /></div>
<h2>THE BULLWHACKER</h2>
<div class='center'><i>ADVENTURES OF A FRONTIER FREIGHTER</i><br/>
<span class="smcap">By William Francis Hooker</span><br/>
<i>Edited by Howard R. Driggs</i></div>
<div class='cap'>BULLWHACKING is an occupation about which most persons
know little in these days, but one that demanded courage
out in Wyoming territory fifty years ago. The bullwhacker
drove ox teams to outlying army posts and Indian reservations far
from railroads, when the pioneers were pushing our frontier west
of the Missouri.</div>
<p>Mr. Hooker was one of these bullwhackers and his book is a true
account of his adventures while driving frontier freighters. He
tells one of the choice stories of America's making and in a way
that makes the old West, with the Indian, the cowboy, and the
outlaw, live again.</p>
<p>Pioneer adventures are here recounted in an entertaining way,
and they are convincing because the author is one of the few surviving
men who whacked bulls and he knows of what he is writing.
Used as an historical reader, this book will make vivid to
pupils of the upper grades an adventurous period of our history.</p>
<div class='center'>
<i>Cloth. xvi + 167 pages. Illustrated. Price $1.00</i><br/>
<br/>
WORLD BOOK COMPANY<br/>
<small><span class="smcap">Yonkers-on-Hudson, New York</span></small><br/>
<small><span class="smcap">2126 Prairie Avenue, Chicago</span></small><br/></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus-239.png" width-obs="500" height-obs="301" alt="Frontier Law" title="" /></div>
<h2>FRONTIER LAW</h2>
<div class='center'><i>A STORY OF VIGILANTE DAYS</i><br/>
<span class="smcap">By William J. McConnell</span><br/>
<i>In collaboration with Howard R. Driggs</i></div>
<div class='cap'>THE restoring of law and order on our western frontier in the
sixties was the work of courageous men with firm hands. It
was one of the stirring periods in the evolution of our government.
Mr. McConnell, who was first a captain of a band of Vigilantes
before he was senator and then governor, gives in this book his
own experiences in bringing the control of territorial affairs into
the hands of law-abiding citizens.</div>
<p>In straight-forward fashion he tells of his journey from Michigan
to the coast, of mining in California, of homesteading in Oregon,
of prospecting in Idaho. Most unusual and interesting is his account
of the struggle against outlawry and the establishment of
orderly government.</p>
<p>Through this life story of a real American boy rings a clear note
of Americanism with love of liberty, respect for law, and a willingness
to face squarely the issues of life. It is one of the very few
first-hand accounts of the Vigilantes and it will bring the events of
those days, with the great lessons that they teach, nearer to the
young student of our history.</p>
<div class='center'>
<i>Cloth. xii + 233 pages. Illustrated. Price $1.20</i><br/>
<br/>
WORLD BOOK COMPANY<br/>
<small><span class="smcap">Yonkers-on-Hudson, New York</span></small><br/>
<small><span class="smcap">2126 Prairie Avenue, Chicago</span></small><br/></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus-240.png" width-obs="500" height-obs="315" alt="Deadwood Gold" title="" /></div>
<h2>DEADWOOD GOLD</h2>
<div class='center'><i>A STORY OF THE BLACK HILLS</i><br/>
<span class="smcap">By George W. Stokes</span><br/>
<i>In collaboration with Howard R. Driggs</i></div>
<div class='cap'>THE life and work of the pioneer miners who opened up the
golden treasures of the Black Hills form a stirring chapter in
the history of the winning of the West. The story as told in this
book is a vivid one, made more valuable and interesting because
Colonel Stokes writes of his own experiences. He was one of the
first to reach the new gold diggings in the seventies, and he saw
the whole development from the early exciting days, on during
the mad rush to Deadwood, to the discovery of some of the greatest
gold mines in the world.</div>
<p>There is in this volume much historical and geographical information.
Especially does the book give a realistic picture of many
aspects of the gold mining process and of the activities associated
with the great gold rushes of all times. Serving as a supplementary
reader in intermediate grades, this true story of American adventure
will hold the interest of boys and girls.</p>
<div class='center'>
<i>Cloth. xii + 163 pages. Illustrated. Price $1.00</i><br/>
<br/>
WORLD BOOK COMPANY<br/>
<small><span class="smcap">Yonkers-on-Hudson, New York</span></small><br/>
<small><span class="smcap">2126 Prairie Avenue, Chicago</span></small><br/></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<div class='tnote'><h3>Transcriber's Notes:</h3>
<p>Corrections made are indicated by dotted lines under the corrections. Scroll the mouse over the word and the original text will <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'apprear'">appear</ins>.</p>
</div>
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