At length, determining to get ahead, we took our axes and waded into the timber lining the stream, while the water was still knee deep, and cut down the largest cotton wood trees we could find. These we shaped into large canoes, and lashed two together so that the center of the bottom of each would just receive the wheels of the respective sides of a wagon. This was expeditiously accomplished, and the wagons were loaded on easily by the men of the company applying their own arms and broad shoulders; but as the stream fell rapidly, the bank on the further side became exposed, and in order to bring the loaded wagons to firm land beyond it was necessary to use oxen and log chains up the bank.
This Black Vermillion Creek was a small impediment in ordinary seasons, and it was not difficult to make the cattle swim it. Indeed, most of them had had some practice before. But at the Big Blue, our next crossing, the case was different. Here it was difficult and not free from danger to swim the loose stock, the river being high, yet about five feet within its banks. Here I had an adventure. Early in the morning of June 22 we attempted to swim the horses of Morrison's train. Being a fair swimmer, I rode in at the ferry landing a large finely bred four-year-old filly, with only a bridle on. She went in out of sight, carrying me down by my hold on her mane. I let go instinctively and came up before her; but as she rose, as the nearest object in sight, she came directly toward me, striking with her fore feet on the water. I instantly threw myself over on my back to save my head and face, but for several strokes she pawed the water away from my breast. It was a close call.
After some search a favorable place to swim the cattle was found about three miles down the river, and there we drove them accordingly. The water was here ten feet
