Considerably over-provided with attendants, horses, mules, and, above all, with baggage, the three friends left St. Louis. Their “following” comprised “four young Frenchmen of St. Louis; Fils, a Canadian _voyageur_; a little four-foot-nothing Yankee, and Fred’s _valet-de-champs_, familiarly called Jimmy.” The journey was commenced on the 28th of May, 1850, per steamer, up the Missouri. On the morning of the 29th a disagreeable discovery was made. Fils, the guide, had disappeared. The scamp had levanted in the night; how, none could tell. Drowning was suggested; but as he had taken his baggage, and had forgotten to leave behind him the rifle and three months’ advance of pay which he had received from his employers, the hypothesis was contemptuously scouted. Consoling themselves with the reflection that his desertion would have been far more prejudicial at a later period of their journey, the travelers continued their progress up the Missouri (for whose scenery Mr. Coke can find no better comparison than the Cockney one of “Rosherville or Cremorne”) to St. Joseph, which the Yankees familiarize into _St. Joe_. Here they were to exchange the deck for the saddle; and so impatient were they for the substitution that they actually felt “annoyed at being obliged to sleep another night on board the steamer.” They had yet to learn the value of a coarse hammock in a close cabin. At last they made a fair start: “_3d June._—After much bother about a guide, and loss of linch-pins, fitting of harness, kicking and jibbing of mules, etc., we left the Missouri, and camped five miles from the town. We pitched our tents in a beautiful spot, on the slope of a hill, surrounded by a large wood. A muddy little stream ran at the bottom. To this (with sleeves turned up and braces off trying, I suppose, to look as much like grooms or dragoons as we were able) we each led our horses: no doubt we succeeded, for we felt perfectly satisfied with every thing and every body. The novelty put us all in excellent humor. The potatoes in the camp-kettle had a decidedly bivouacking appearance; and though the grass was wet, who, I should like to know, would have condescended to prefer a camp-stool? As to the pistols, and tomahawks, and rides, it was evident that they might be wanted at a moment’s notice, that it would have been absolutely dangerous not to have them all in perfect readiness. Besides, there was a chance of finding game in the wood. If the chance had been a hundred times as diminutive, we were in duty bound to try it.”