I can answer for our whole party that, beyond a doubt, the climate is healthy and the soil rich. For the first one hundred miles, after reaching the eastern boundary of the plains, springs and pure streams abound. Further west, the water supply is not so plentiful. On only one occasion, however, did we suffer any inconvenience from this, and that was upon the very headwaters of the Saline. Going into camp late, coffee was hastily prepared, and the quality of the water not noticed. It proved to be quite salty, and as we drank liberally of the coffee, and were unable afterward to find a spring, our sufferings before morning amounted to positive torture. Each one of the party found that his lungs were benefited by our sojourn on the plains. I believe that a consumptive could find decidedly more relief in Buffalo Land than among the mountains further west. During the evening, we added considerably to our already very full notes concerning the wild tribes of the western plains. So many are the "true tales of the border" which one can hear in a few months of such journeyings as ours, that the recital of even a tithe of the number would become tiresome. The red-bearded owner of "Shed-tail" added to our store, by relating an adventure which he claimed had occurred to himself and Buffalo Bill, when they were teamsters together in an overland train. It was to the effect that while riding ahead of the wagons, to find a crossing over the Sandy, they discovered the skeleton of a man lying at the foot of a cottonwood tree. As they dismounted for the purpose of finding some means, if possible, of identifying the remains, their attention was caught by letters cut in the bark. These they deciphered sufficiently to see that it had been an attempt by some weak hand to carve a name. A broken knife, lying near the bones, told plainly enough who the worker at the epitaph had been, and other signs revealed to the frontiersmen the whole death history. The man had been assailed by savages, scalped, and left as dead. The work of the knife showed that he must have recovered sufficiently to crawl to the tree, and there make a faint effort to leave some record of his name and fate. The straggling gashes indicated that he had continued the task even while death was blinding his eyes. A few more drops of blood, and perhaps the mystery of years, now shrouding the history of some family hearth-stone, would have been cleared away.