The Expedition of the Donner Party and its Tragic Fate | Page 6

hearts. Then they rode
away in the moonlight, and our past was a sweet memory, our future a
beautiful dream.
William Donner, my half-brother, came to camp early next morning to

help us to get the cattle started, and to accompany us as far as the
outskirts of civilization.
We reached Independence, Missouri, on the eleventh of May, with our
wagons and cattle in prime condition, and our people in the best of
spirits. Our party encamped near that bustling frontier town, and were
soon a part of the busy crowds, making ready for the great prairie on
the morrow. Teams thronged the highways; troops of men, women, and
children hurried nervously about seeking information and replenishing
supplies. Jobbers on the street were crying their wares, anxious to sell
anything or everything required, from a shoestring to a complete outfit
for a four months' journey across the plains. Beads of sweat clung to
the merchants' faces as they rushed to and fro, filling orders. Brawny
blacksmiths, with breasts bared and sleeves rolled high, hammered and
twisted red hot metal into the divers forms necessary to repair yokes
and wagons.
Good fellowship prevailed as strangers met, each anxious to learn
something of those who might by chance become his neighbors in line.
Among the pleasant acquaintances made that day, was Mr. J.Q.
Thornton, a young attorney from Quincy, Illinois, who, with his invalid
wife, was emigrating to Oregon. He informed us that himself and wife
and ex-Governor Boggs and family, of Missouri, were hourly expecting
Alphonso Boone, grandson of Daniel Boone; and that as soon as Boone
and his family should arrive from Kentucky, they would all hasten on
to join Colonel Russell's California company, which was already on the
way, but had promised to await them somewhere on the Kansas River.
It was then believed that at least seven thousand emigrant wagons
would go West, through Independence, that season. Obviously the
journey should be made while pasturage and water continued plentiful
along the route. Our little party at once determined to overtake Colonel
Russell and apply for admission to his train, and for that purpose we
resumed travel early on the morning of May twelfth.
As we drove up Main Street, delayed emigrants waved us a
light-hearted good-bye, and as we approached the building of the

American Tract Society, its agent came to our wagons and put into the
hand of each child a New Testament, and gave to each adult a Bible,
and also tracts to distribute among the heathen in the benighted land to
which we were going. Near the outskirts of town we parted from
William Donner, took a last look at Independence, turned our backs to
the morning sun, and became pioneers indeed to the Far West.
[Illustration: THE CAMP ATTACKED BY INDIANS]
[Illustration: OUR STEALTHY FOES]

CHAPTER II
IN THE TERRITORY OF KANSAS--PRAIRIE SCHOONERS FROM
SANTA FÉ TO INDEPENDENCE, MO.--LIFE _en route_--THE BIG
BLUE--CAMP GOVERNMENT--THE Blue Rover.
During our first few days in the Territory of Kansas we passed over
good roads, and through fields of May blossoms musical with the hum
of bees and the songs of birds. Some of the party rode horseback;
others walked in advance of the train; but each father drove his own
family team. We little folk sat in the wagons with our dolls, watching
the huge white-covered "prairie schooners" coming from Santa Fé to
Independence for merchandise. We could hear them from afar, for the
great wagons were drawn by four or five span of travel-worn horses or
mules, and above the hames of each poor beast was an arch hung with
from three to five clear-toned bells, that jingled merrily as their carriers
moved along, guided by a happy-go-lucky driver, usually singing or
whistling a gleeful tune. Both man and beast looked longingly toward
the town, which promised companionship and revelry to the one, and
rest and fodder to the other.
We overtook similar wagons, heavily laden with goods bound for Santa
Fé. Most of the drivers were shrewd; all of them civil. They were of
various nationalities; some comfortably clad, others in tatters, and a
few in picturesque threadbare costumes of Spanish finery. Those hardy

wayfarers gave us much valuable information regarding the route
before us, and the Indian tribes we should encounter. We were now
averaging a distance of about two and a half miles an hour, and
encamping nights where fuel and water could be obtained.
Early on the nineteenth of May we reached Colonel Russel's camp on
Soldiers' Creek, a tributary of the Kansas River. The following account
of the meeting held by the company after our arrival is from the journal
of Mr. Edwin Bryant, author of "What I Saw in California":
May 19, 1846. A new census of our party was taken this