_June 9_ (Wednesday). We made a march of seventeen and a quarter miles, to the crossing of the South Fork of the Platte River. It was very warm during the morning, and the soles of our shoes became very smooth from marching through the dead grass. At noon, though, it commenced raining, and continued to do so all afternoon and evening. After arriving at our camp ground we had to wait nearly an hour for the train, which through some cause had been detained. We kindled a fire and crowded around it, three or four deep. The Lieutenant, Dwyer (the wagon-master), and two or three other men mounted mules last night, took a day's provisions, and started up the river to seek the crossing here. Finding it, they spent the night with the old Cheyenne chief, Spotted Tail, who had two or three wigwams at the crossing. They were entertained in a distinguished manner by his dusky highness, returning in the morning to the command. But as soon as our train came within sight to-day the old Chief pulled up his stakes and "vamoosed the ranch." _June 10_ (Thursday). We remained in camp, as it was a raw, wet, chilly day; little was done except to sleep. The Colonel wishes a warm day for the crossing. _June 11_ (Friday). The day being no better than yesterday, and there being no prospect of improvement, we commenced the long-dreaded crossing. Lieutenant Alexander divested himself of all clothing, except his shirt and drawers, and entered, leading his horse. We speedily stripped ourselves, carrying our belts and haversacks around our necks, our clothes in a bundle on the ends of our rifles. Every two good swimmers taking between them one of those ignorant of the now useful art, we trusted ourselves to the mercy of the chilling, madly rushing current. The water was high, and as cold as ice. It required as much strength as we could muster to gain a step against the current, and the sharp stones on the bottom cut our feet painfully, till our legs and feet became so benumbed with cold as to be insensible to further pain. As we made a step forward, when the water was but a foot or two deep, we would sink unexpectedly to the middle, and probably the next step would take us in to the arm-pits; then the water would obtain such a force against the body that it required almost superhuman efforts to keep an upright position. We became dizzy from the rapid current before getting half way across, and by the time the opposite shore was reached most of us were pretty well exhausted. One man, Artificer James R. Kelly, was swept off his feet, but luckily enough I was able to catch hold of him and bring him ashore.