History of the Donner Party | Page 8

service, indeed. They have been of more advantage than our meat.
We have plenty of butter and milk.
We are commanded by Captain Russell, an amiable man. George
Donner is himself yet. He crows in the morning and shouts out, "Chain
up, boys - chain up," with as much authority as though he was
"something in particular." John Denton is still with us. We find him
useful in the camp. Hiram Miller and Noah James are in good health
and doing well. We have of the best people in our company, and some,
too, that are not so good.

Buffaloes show themselves frequently.
We have found the wild tulip, the primrose, the lupine, the eardrop, the
larkspur, and creeping hollyhock, and a beautiful flower resembling the
bloom of the beech tree, but in bunches as large as a small sugar-loaf,
and of every variety of shade, to red and green.
I botanize, and read some, but cook "heaps" more. There are four
hundred and twenty wagons, as far as we have heard, on the road
between here and Oregon and California.
Give our love to all inquiring friends. God bless them. Yours, truly,
Mrs. George Donner.
The following letter was published in the journal of July 30, 1846:
South Fork of the Nebraska, Ten Miles from the Crossing, Tuesday,
June 16, 1846.
Dear Friend: To-day, at nooning, there passed, going to the States,
seven men from Oregon, who went out last year. One of them was well
acquainted with Messrs. Ide and Cadden Keyes, the latter of whom, he
says, went to California. They met the advance Oregon caravan about
150 miles west of Fort Laramie, and counted in all, for Oregon and
California (excepting ours), 478 wagons. There are in our company
over 40 wagons, making 518 in all, and there are said to be yet 20
behind. To-morrow we cross the river, and, by reckoning, will be over
200 miles from Fort Laramie, where we intend to stop and repair our
wagon wheels. They are nearly all loose, and I am afraid we will have
to stop sooner, if there can be found wood suitable to heat the tires.
There is no wood here, and our women and children are out now
gathering "buffalo chips" to burn, in order to do the cooking. These
chips burn well.
Mrs. George Donner.
At Fort Laramie a portion of the Donner Party celebrated the Fourth of

July, 1846. Arriving there on the evening of the third, they pitched
camp somewhat earlier than usual, and prepared a grand dinner for the
Fourth. At the Fort were a large party of Sioux who were on the
war-path against the Snakes or Pawnees. The Sioux were, perhaps, the
most warlike Indian nation on the great prairies, and when dressed in
their war paint and mounted on their fleet ponies, presented a truly
imposing appearance. The utmost friendliness prevailed, and there was
a mutual interchange of gifts and genial courtesies. When the Donner
Party pursued their march, and had journeyed half a day from the Fort,
they were overtaken and convoyed quite a distance by about three
hundred young warriors. The escort rode in pairs alongside the train in
true military fashion. Finally halting, they opened ranks; and as the
wagons passed, each warrior held in his mouth a green twig or leaf,
which was said to be emblematic of peacefulness and good feeling.
The train was never seriously molested by the Sioux. On one occasion,
about fifty warriors on horseback surrounded a portion of the train, in
which was the Graves family. While generally friendly, a few of the
baser sort persisted in attempting to steal, or take by force, trivial
articles which struck their fancy. The main body of Indians were
encamped about half a mile away, and when the annoyances became
too exasperating, W. C. Graves mounted a horse, rode to the
encampment, and notified the Chief of the action of his followers.
Seizing an old-fashioned single-barreled shotgun, the Chief sprang
upon his horse and fairly flew over the plain toward the emigrant
wagons. When within about a hundred yards of the train he attracted
attention by giving an Indian whoop, which was so full of rage and
imprecation that the startled warriors forthwith desisted from their petty
persecutions and scattered in every direction like frightened quail. One
of the would-be marauders was a little tardy in mounting his pony, and
as soon as the Chief got within range, the shotgun was leveled and
discharged full at the unruly subject. Three of the buckshot entered the
pony's side and one grazed the warrior's leg. As if satisfied that his
orders to treat the emigrants in a friendly manner would not be again
disregarded, the Chief wheeled his horse about, and in the most grave