Then at night in the low-ceilinged room with

its sloping sides, close under the shingles where my mother put me to bed. How I did dread to see her carry out the candle. How I hoped she would leave the "middle room" ajar, for the few moments respite from the dark. What a comfort to hear her moving about, and to know that as long as she was there the goblins of the dark would not come out. But when she had gone downstairs, the invisible, menacing creatures were about me. What a thrill when a mouse rattled in the wall, or a branch from a maple tree would touch the roof.

You have had these experiences, and you, and you, with slight variations.

And the little red children of the prairie had their similar fears, and the maidens would sing

HISTORY OF WESTERN NEBRASKA

songs at night, expressing their fear of the unknown Dwellers of the Darkness. Their Fire Fly Song, is one of this character:

"Fire fly -- fire fly -- bright little thing, Light me to bed while my songs I sing. Give me your light as you fly o'er my head That I may merrily go to bed. Give me your light o'er the grass as you creep That I may joyfully go to my sleep."

They could merrily go to bed, and joyfully go to sleep if the little fire fly would only give the safety of its feeble light.

The young trappers and boy scouts, if they look, may find some evidences of the cache of furs that the American Fur Company once had in the bad lands at the foot of Scotts Bluff mountain. It was during the spring freshet of June, 1842, that fourteen trappers from Fort Laramie left with boats laden with furs for St.