The black blur made by the wagon stockade and a tent or so was visible against the lighter line of the waterway of the Platte.
Night came down, brooding with its million stars.

I could hear the voices of the wolves calling here and there.

It was a scene wild and appealing.

I was indeed, it seemed to me, in a strange new world, where all was young, where everything was beginning.

Where was the old world I had left behind me?
I rolled into my blankets, but I could not sleep.