The bunk was a trifle less filthy than the floor; so upon its boards we spread first the skin, then our saddle-blankets, and, with a pair of saddle-bags for a bolster, I wrapped myself in my cloak, and resigned myself to my distasteful accommodations.
The change of position from that I had occupied through the day, probably brought some rest, but sleep I could not.

Even on a softer and more agreeable couch, the snoring of the old Indian and two or three companions who had joined him, and his frequent querulous exclamations as he felt himself encroached upon in the darkness, would have effectually banished slumber from my eyes.
It was a relief to rise with early morning and prepare for the journey of the day.

Where our fellow-travellers had bestowed themselves I knew not, but they evidently had fared no better than we.

They were in fine spirits, however, and we cheerfully took our breakfast and were ferried over the river to continue on the trail from that point to Bellefontaine, twelve miles distant from Fort Winnebago.
The great "bug-bear" of this road, Ma-zhee-gaw-gaw Swamp, was the next thing to be encountered.

We reached it about nine o'clock.