A DAY OX THE PLAINS. 33 



jured, and twenty-six drivers — thirty in all. There are three 

 hundred and twelve oxen, besides some spare ones, often broken 

 down. There are twenty-six wagons, divided into two wings — 

 the right and left. As the leading teams have advantages, 

 these wings alternate in starting. In bad roads the head 

 wagons get over the difficult spots an hour or two before those 

 in the rear, and as the drivers often fail to reciprocate favors, 

 they go on and leave the last to get along the best they can, 

 with the help of the extras, or those behind. The favorites of 

 the wagon-masters — neighbors or old comrades of the plains — 

 get the leadership and the pick of the cattle, while the rest 

 put up with the leavings. The men are portioned off in four 

 messes of six or seven, the cooks not having to guard or herd 

 at night, or at the noon halts. The men are divided in five 

 guards, so their watches will vary from before to after mid- 

 night, as their turns come, though sometimes they stand all 

 night. The last, though making the duty rarer, was a great 

 hardship, when after a hard day's work we went supperless to 

 an all night's guard, after driving the cattle into the river to 

 drink. 



When stopping, the train is placed in two semi-circles, one on 

 either side of the road, as a protection against Indians and to form 

 a corral to hold the oxen while yoking them up. The wagons are 

 narrow tired, weigh eighteen hundred pounds, and carry fifty- 

 four hundred. They are covered with double sheets and pro- 

 vided with chain-locks. The cook's wagon has a mess-box on 

 behind to carry our Dutch oven, skillet and tin plates, and rem- 

 nant of meals. A half-barrel for water is hung on the end of the 

 guide pole. In the oven is baked saleratus-raised bread, that 

 comes out of it as yellow as sponge cake and unfit to eat. In 

 the skillet our bacon is fried, and in the surplus fat dough is 

 boiled and christened " fat cakes." Our fuel, if we are fortunate 

 enough to camp by timber, is the dry est branches we can find, 

 but in certain districts we used " buffalo chips." This last was 



