killed in plain view of the caravan, but the river separated them, and they were powerless to aid him. After the murder, and some threatening demonstrations toward my father's party, the Indians retired in the direction of Sixty-six mountain. The event made a powerful impression upon the party, especially the women, who for the first time had witnessed a tragedy of this sort.

I have never been able to ascertain the identity of this unfortunate party, but it was probably a lone trapper.

On arrival at the fort, they found that it was impossible to secure an escort, such as they had expected to go with them through "the Black Hills" to the next garrison west. They waited several days on the meadows north of the river, and then as no further emigrants arrived, and they had seen few Indians about, they determined to undertake the journey without escort.

The morning of the second day out they ascended a slight ridge and were about to descend into the valley of Mollie's Fork when immediately before them at the foot of the hill lay about two (hundred Indian lodges, scattered through the cottonwoods on the bank of the spring branch.

It was crucial and an excruciating moment, but after a brief consultation it was decided that the only plan of action was one of courage, of assurance, without evident fear, and not in the least offensive. The event of the Bald Knob tragedy being of so recent date, the women became hysterical, and began to cry and sob, but retreat meant certain disaster before they could possibly reach the fort. The party proceeded without undue haste or hesitation down the hill and through the smoky city of tepees, and as slowly and unconcernedly climbed the hill farther on. The Indians made some demonstrations of hostility, but never fired a gun, or shot an arrow.