And now Fort Mitchell had become the rendezvous for trappers, as well as a halting place for overland travelers. It was here that trapping parties disbanded and went their several ways, and it was here they met to journey to the white settlements.

When a number had made ready for the trip eastward they would take boats or horses, and with the voice of the wilderness, and with the yodling calls of the mountains, they would make the rocks and cliffs of old Scotts Bluff reverberate, and then, they were away.

Upon arrival at their destination, they would vanish from sight for two or three hours ; then shaved, bathed, and clad in garments of civilization, they would appear in the marts of trade.

The mystery of the wilderness was about them, the brown of the western winds upon their brows, and wherever they went they were objects of consideration and interest. After a time the sameness of the city grew tiresome, and when another trapper outfit was preparing for the west, the most of them would be ready to come back to the life that was life to them. The joy of returning to the haunts of the mountains was theirs, and happiness beamed from the countenances, as they danced, capered and sang about the camp getting ready for the journey. And here at old Fort Mitchell, they were ready once more for the perils and pleasures of the profession.

HISTORY OF WESTERN NEBRASKA

BRADY ISLAND TRAGEDY -- FRENCH BOAT SONG-- TIM BRIDGER MEETS SIR GEORGE GORE