Shortly afterward a yoke of oxen was missing. They had been driven off over some bare ledges of trap to break the trail. An Indian was hired to hunt for them. He found that this same beggar who had been so disgusted with the offer of a piece of pork with the tail attached had driven them off and slaughtered them. Payment day made all right, and the Indians were compelled to pay a good price for rather poor beef. HARD TIMES. Mrs. Mary C. Worth communicated to the writer the following incidents, illustrating some of the vicissitudes of the early settlers: It was in the fall of 1842. There were about two hundred people in the village, most of them in the employ of James Purinton, company agent. They were already short of provisions and the winter was rapidly coming on, and the expected boat, with its cargo of provisions for the winter supply, was long delayed. September passed, October came and nearly passed, and still no boat. Snow covered the ground, and thin ice the river. The ice, in finely broken pieces, floated down the rapids and was beginning to gorge in the Dalles, and still no boat. Provisions were allotted to the resident families, and the gloomiest anticipations filled all minds at the prospect of the long, dreary winter without food; when, on the twenty-eighth of October, the long expected whistle was heard from the coming steamer. The people rushed frantically down to the old warehouse, but the ice was so gorged in the Dalles that no boat could make the landing. No boat was in sight, nor was the whistle heard again. Had it all been an illusion? The eager throng were again in despair. Another night of cold would blockade the river. Just then the voices of white men were heard from the rocks of the Dalles, and to their great joy they perceived the boat's officers and passengers clambering down from the rocks, with the glad tidings that the boat had reached the landing, half a mile below, and was then unloading her cargo. The boat, as soon as unloaded, hurriedly departed to avoid being frozen in. The winter passed merrily enough, but clouds and darkness gathered in the spring. Provisions were again short, and had to be apportioned sparingly and equally. Occasionally a deer or a fish eked out the supply, but starvation was again imminent. On this occasion they were relieved by the reception of condemned pork from Fort Snelling. The St. Louis proprietors sent up another boat load of supplies after the opening of navigation, and all seemed well, when, during the prevalence of high water, the boom and mill race gave way and the logs, their main dependence, were swept down the river and beyond their control. This important occurrence, as it then seemed to be, opened up for the company and people a new trade from the valley below, which has been a source of immense profit. It suggested the idea of booming and rafting their logs for points down the river, and led to the building of the first saw mill at Stillwater. UGH! UGH!