They were a party of emigrants, and had left Julesburg several days previously; the grasses of the Lodgepole valley were so alluring to them and their worn stock, that when they reached the point where the Jules Cutoff left the valley for the table-lands, they were reluctant to follow the continental thoroughfare.
So, up the Lodgepole valley they continued for several miles. Here amidst luxurious grasses they formed the regular corral of their wagons by drawing them to a circle, and the stock was turned loose to graze.
Early in the evening the wolves appeared howling about them in great numbers, and they wished their horses were safely within the enclosure. The campers were unable to determine certainly whether the cries were actually those of marauding wild beasts or Indians imitating them. If beasts, they should stay to their fires, if Indians, they should take to the shadows. A clatter of hoofs told that the horses had stampeded to the west. The howling continued about the camp, but in diminished volume until nearly dawn.
In the morning the emigrants on foot started upon the trail. The women and children, hardy and strong, joined, rather than be left behind, at the mercy of any nomadic band that might come prowling about.
The trail of the runaway horses took the emigrants to the head of "Lorren's Fork," then to the springs in the hills bordering Gonneville or Pumpkin creek. Now they had come back, but were going again. Abandoning his purpose of going to Ohio, the lone herdsman hereafter journeyed with them, showing them the way to Fort Laramie. He knew the route, the watering places, and the passes in the hills. They left the wagons where they stood.