In the month of May, 1860, a caravan of emigrants was slowly making its way through what was then the Territory of Nebraska. It was following the southern bank of the Platte River, and was still more than a hundred miles from Julesburg, just over the border in Colorado. The train was smaller than most of those which crossed the plains during those years when the lure of gold still drew men and their families from every quarter of the globe. The outfit consisted of six Conestoga wagons, each with six span of oxen, no mules, eight horses and twelve men, two-thirds of them with wives and from one to five children. In addition to the men, two youths, not quite grown, rode with them. One was Alden Payne and the other his African servant, Jethro Mix. The head of the party, which was bound to California, was Abner Fleming――a middle-aged man, with a wife, but no children. He was an old acquaintance of Hugh Payne, the father of Alden, and willingly took the two youths under his charge while making the long journey. They were strong, willing to work, of cheerful minds, fine horsemen, and, as I have said, each knew how to use a rifle. During the months of waiting, after the departure of Mr. Payne, wife and daughter, for the Pacific coast, our young friends had plenty of time in which to prepare for the undertaking. Of course, they saw to it that they had plenty of ammunition. Their rifles were muzzle-loaders, with percussion caps, but they used the conical bullet, and Alden had learned long before to shoot from the saddle with his horse on a run. Jethro Mix did well while standing, but he insisted that it was too “blamed bothersome” to hit anything when his horse was trotting or galloping. The extra clothing and few necessary articles were placed in the wagon of Mr. Fleming, and, as was the custom, each vehicle carried quite a lot of provisions, though the owners counted on shooting a good deal of game on the way――an expectation that was not disappointed. Among the men making up the company was only one in whom we feel special interest. He was a massive fellow, six feet in height, of vast frame and prodigious strength. His heavy beard was grizzled, but under his shaggy brows the little gray eyes seemed at times to sparkle with fire. He wore a sombrero, with a fringed hunting shirt, leggings and moccasins, and rode a powerful, bony Indian horse, larger than any animal in the train. The beast was not only tough and strong, but capable of good speed and great endurance. None of the acquaintances of this singular person had ever heard him called by any other name than “Shagbark.” It was known that he was a native of the Ozark region, and had spent years with the American Fur Company, as trapper and hunter. From some cause he quarreled with those above him, and left their employ three or four years before we find him acting as guide for the emigrant train of Abner Fleming.