Howdy, Our conclusion: As they continue, incidents along the trail slow the emigrant train. A wheel lets out an ear-splitting screech that can be heard most a mile away. Its wail continues until grease is applied to a neglected, smoking axle. Shortly thereafter a wagon breaks down; a forge is brought up and repairs made. Up ahead is a boggy passage requiring doubling. And five to ten extra pair of oxen are used to pull each wagon through - taking up an extra hour or so to affect passage. Because the many wheels and hooves have ruined a stream crossing, a new one must be found and the banks cut down. Someone gets sick; the party halts, and the stricken either treated or they hopefully wait for passing emigrants with a doctor. Wagons stand in a stream while dry wheels are soaked to keep the iron tires from slipping off. Late in the day, facing the sun, tired travelers decide it is time to make camp for the night. Beside a stream or spring, the wagons come to rest, and the long line breaks into groups. The traveling forge is set out, and as the blacksmith repairs the equipment and replaces the lost shoes of the draft animals, the hammer's ring against the anvil sounds a merry note - a friendly sense of community life. Pack animals are relieved of their burdens; unharnessed horses and mules roll on the fresh, cool grass - soothing their itching backs. Men tinker with their wagons and harness; draft animals are checked for harness sores and scalds - treatment is applied. Playing children run about, exploring their new campsite and looking for adventure. Camp equipment is unloaded; tents unfolded; wood cut; fires started; and coffee is ground in a mill or crushed in a bag between two stones. Soon the tantalizing odor of food cooking calls the hungry men from their duties - making repairs, feeding the stock and circling the wagons - to the numerous camp fires. They join their families and mess-mates with enormous appetites that make every meal a feast. The separate campfires vary in opulence. The less pretenious, particularly those without women, make out with a frying pan, sheet iron kettle, coffee pot, tin cup, and a butcher knife for each. When the food is cooked, they sit around making jokes, and with greasy hands devour savory viands. Others boast more adequate culinary, more civilized manners and methods for preparing and enjoying their food. But each and everyone realize the necessity to eat all the food required by their rugged outdoor life. After dinner, the butter churned by the lurching and jolting of wagons since morning is removed, worked, washed, salted and added to the fortunates' larder. The culinary equipment is cleaned and made ready for an early breakfast. As night comes, campfires gleam along the trail darkness and through the woods or plains as far as the eye can see. The emigrants sit around blazing logs, exchange gossip, recount the day's events, speculate on what's happening at home, and contemplate on what tomorrow will bring. Problems of general concern are discussed and decisions made. On the still night air, the sound of voices, argument, banter, laughter, singing, fiddling, and dancers' hilarity waft from the remote groups. A song started in one camp is taken up in another until the entire encampment rings with music. Swains and maidens, thrown together by this new relationship, discover mutual interst and attractions - from which romance flowers long before reaching California. Some write letters by firelight; hoping they will be carried by eastbound travelers; and mailed to their friends and kin back home. The flames subside, and a hush falls on the groups and the tired travelers steal away. Moving shadows on tent walls and wagon covers reveal sleepy emigrants seeking beds by candlelight. The chorus of crickets and frogs, the notes of the owl and whipperwill, the coyote's distant cry, and the other night sounds, accenuate their feeling of isolation in the wilderness. But they sleep secure as the guard patrols the encampment. Even their deep slumber is undisturbed by the noise of the nearby draft animals. As the gray and pink dawn touches the eastern sky, the mules bray a noisy reville demanding their release to crop their morning meal from the dewy grass. Breakfast is pepared; cows milked; wagon wheels soaked overnight in the nearby stream are recovered and bolted; axles are greased; tar buckets recovered and hung under wagons; tail boards used the evening before as a dance floor are returned to their place; draft animals are harnessed; pack animals are rounded up and loaded. Another day has begun and they are off again.(Compiled/borrowed from Grant Foreman's "Marcy & the Gold Seekers", Kimball Webster's T"he Goldseekers of '49", Josiah Gregg's "Commerce of the Prairie", and the journals/diaries contained therein.). Have a nice day, Bob Norris in Dallas <BNorris166aol.com>