We made a boat of one of the wagon beds, and had a regular ferry, and when they pulled the wagons over they sank below the surface but came out all right.

We came to Pawnee Village, on the Platte, a collection of mud huts, oval in shape, and an entrance low down to crawl in at.

A ground owl and some prairie dogs were in one of them, and we suspected they might be winter quarters for the Indians.
Dallas and his family rode in the two-horse wagon.

Dick Field was cook, and the rest of us drove the oxen.

We put out a small guard at night to watch for Indians and keep the stock together so there might be no delay in searching for them.