The great Carlyle declares that if a person possess a quality in a high degree, whether that quality be mental or physical, he is unconscious of the fact; but if he be deficient in any quality, either moral or physical, he is always conscious of the deficiency; and, seeming to act on the supposition that what he feels so distinctly, he fears others might perceive, he is constantly hedging: therefore, a dishonest man is always talking about his honesty, and a coward about his bravery. All the men of our company behaved well but one, and that one was "the Colonel." I cannot refrain from recalling an incident connected with him. I have mentioned the unmarried lady who was accompanying her sister to her Western home. She was sitting in the wagon with the reins in her hand and a pistol in her lap, during all the excitement and uproar. As I passed up and down the train, I saw the Colonel, either at the rear or on the side of the wagons, away from the yelling Indians. The last time I passed the wagon, the Colonel stuck his head out from the opposite side and asked, "What are you going to do, Captain?" I said, "Fight, sir, if necessary." The young lady, looking at him, exclaimed: "Yes, sir; fight if necessary. Get on the other side of the wagon; be a man!" Although the Colonel subsequently, by his conduct at Shell Creek, partially redeemed his reputation, yet the insinuating jeers of the men, as to which was the safer side of the wagon, kept him in hot water, and, taking my advice, he left the train after the passage of Shell Creek, at the first opportunity. It was a good riddance, for a coward driven to bay, and constantly wounded by the shafts of ridicule, is dangerous. Our toll having been paid and the excitement having abated, we resumed our journey across the Loup Fork valley and over the slightly elevated high land that separate its waters from the Platte. We descended from this high land by an easy grade, and made an early camp. Wood, water and grass were abundant.