—145— 
True to my resolution, I continued going on in an 
eastern direction. The grass in the prairie was often 
as tall as a man, and made walking very troublesome. 
Nowhere could a sign of a road be seen. It seemed 
as if no human being had ever set foot in this coun- 
try. I passed several brooks, seemingly insignificant, 
but with such muddy bottoms that my animals sank 
into them, and I had to unpack my mule on several 
occasions. In the afternoon I reached a larger creek 
with much timber, probably Cow Creek, and camped 
theré. My animals were too much fatigued, so I 
spent also the following day there; dried my bag- 
gage; and made reflections upon solitude. The next 
morning I started early. On the road I saw the last 
buffaloes of the trip, got mired a few times in little 
creeks, and camped at night on the Little Arkansas, 
a creek with terribly steep banks. Only after long 
search did I find a place to water my animals. The 
next morning I couldn’t find my animals in the high 
grass. Only on climbing a tree did I discover them 
at a mile’s distance. With a load, it was impossible 
to get my mule over the creek; so I carried my bag- 
gage myself to the other shore, and then drove my 
animals over. After I had continued some hours 
steadily in an eastern direction through the prairie, 
I came suddenly and quite unexpectedly upon the 
Santa Fe road. My animals were no less pleased 
than was I. I found traces of my traveling compan- 
ions. That same day I camped, for want of better 
water, at a puddle, inhabited by countless frogs. The 
Return to 
the 
Boundary of 
Missouri 
