WET, COLD, HUNGRY, AND FORLORN. 41 



nearest point; that we were twenty to thirty miles south 

 of the upper waters of the Big Blue, and that it twisted and 

 snaked more, if possible, than did the Republican and that 

 was about all. 



One thing was quite clear : the water that fell between 

 those rivers sooner or later found its way into one or the 

 other of them. The natural drainage systems would not 

 cross ; therefore, if we followed the first gully we came to, 

 and always went .with its fall, we should eventually arrive at 

 the bank of one river or the other, according to the side of 

 the divide we might then be on. 



Of course, we were aware that unless we should be 

 fortunately brought to the Republican river at some place 

 where we had been before, we should not know which river 

 we had come to ; but, there ivas a chance of striking it at 

 such a place, and a certainty of shelter and getting fuel to 

 cook with on either river. But at best a long march was 

 before us ; and so our meat excepting a few pounds was 

 thrown away, and we jogged on, wet, cold, hungry, and 

 forlorn. Well we knew how the surface water would 

 meander back and forth, and wind around, ere it grew to 

 little creeks, how the little creeks would twist and twine for 

 many a weary mile ere they would lose themselves in the 

 river they would help to swell. 



We journeyed on for miles for hours. It began to get 

 dark. But unquestionably we had got on the course of a 

 defined prairie stream, for occasional clumps of willows and 

 beds of reeds showed where, even in the dry season, there 

 was always water. As we went on, the intervals between 

 the clumps became gradually shorter and shorter, the 



