Otherwise, they were traveling light, carrying on the pack-horse, in addition to the tent, only a tea-kettle, a water bucket, and some extra ammunition; while each rider toted his own tin cup and hunting knife. The knife was a handy article at meal time. Its first duty was to stir the tea, and secondly to cut the ham and bread. The meal being finished, the utensils were rinsed in hot water and set aside till morning. A wisp of dry grass was employed to wipe the knife before returning the blade to its sheath. Afterwards, they sat before the tent until dark, chuckling at the awkward movements of the spanceled horses, as they hobbled from one spot to another in search of tender pasturage. At the first indication of daylight, following a night of refreshing slumber, the whites were aroused by the lusty shout of Bright Star, who had stood the last watch. “Ho! ho!” he yelled. The pale-faces jumped up abruptly from their blankets. The fire, which had been allowed to die down in the evening, was soon nursed into a hot flame. The horses were caught and saddled, and the tent taken down, while breakfast, similar to the meal of the evening before, was being prepared. Finishing with that, they once more rinsed kettles and cups, loaded the pack-horse and tied their cups to their own saddle-bows. Then they quickly mounted and rode away, leaving behind only a heap of feebly smoking ashes to tell of their visit. They traveled steadily the live-long day, barely making a halt at noon to bait their horses and refresh themselves with a cold lunch. They were now getting among the branches of the Pecatonica, a stream which flowed eastward to feed the larger Rock River. The country had lost its prairie character and become rough and broken. But the four sped on, sometimes down open ravines, again through narrow defiles, where they were hard put to dodge the projecting and interwoven branches. The next morning, the nature of the landscape remained much the same. Their progress, however, was made miserable by a light, but steady, rain that set in soon after daylight. Their only recourse was to wrap their blankets about their shoulders, bend low in their saddles and forge grimly onward. Not so much as a single human habitation was seen. Neither Indian lodge nor white cabin broke the unending solitude. It was the vast, primeval wilderness, unspoiled as the day of Creation. Suddenly however, about mid-day, a glad shout came from Bill Brown, who was leading the little procession. “Hooray, boys!” he cried, “a fence, a fence!” With new life in their wet, tired bodies they spurred on. Presently the crowing of a cock saluted their ears; and following the rail fence down a slope they came upon a group of log cabins, low, shabby and unpromising; but a welcome shelter from the pelting rain that was now driving in from the northeast with increasing violence. “What place is this?” called Brown, to a man who came out from one of the cabins.