Our illustration
on this page represents a halt of one of these trains for the night.
The day’s journey has been accomplished, and the corral, or camp,
must be made up before darkness comes on. This is done by arranging
the wagons in a circle, leaving but one opening, to guard against an
Indian charge as well as to provide a place where the animals
belongings to the train can be securely guarded and kept from
straying. The camp cooking fires are lighted, and during the
preparations for the meal, which includes both dinner and supper,
the hearts of the weary wagoners are beguiled with cheering notes
from the musician of the train. They are a hard, wild set, these
wagoners. Living beyond the confines of civilization, and removed
from all the softening influences of society, they form a class by
themselves peculiar to the great plains. Constant exposure to peril
makes them insensible to danger, and is also the cause of their
utter recklessness of human life. Men who don’t care for their own
lives are not apt to be particular about others’, and when they
fight, it is, perhaps, less to save themselves than to kill somebody
else. But in spite of this trifling moral defect they are a class
worthy of great respect. As a general rule, they are men of their
word, brave and generous, and if they undertook to carry you across
the plains, you might feel sure they would die for you just as
recklessly as they would kill you on the proper provocation.
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