Possibly because of its location and the abundance of its game, it became the final stronghold of the Indians. Its entire white population, at the time of my first visit, was probably exceeded by thousands of western villages, and but a small percentage of the number were women. There were enough of the latter, however, to secure the adoption of woman's suffrage by the first legislative assembly of the state, and social conditions then gave rise to the oft-repeated couplet, "Baby, baby, don't get in a fury, Your mamma's gone to sit on the jury." As indicating that the spirit of woman's freedom was in the very atmosphere of that country long before her rights were established by legislative enactment, I state it as a fact that our first camp in that territory was made near a pool of alkaline water, in which each member of our party personally and simultaneously laundered his flannels and silk handkerchiefs, a purification that was greatly needed. It was an inspiring if not "a sublime sight," to see eight stalwart men diligently scrub their garments in the margin of the pool, and hang them to dry upon the stiff branches of the sage bushes in that bright, pure sunlight. The pool proved to be the home of insect life, for the early evening brought myriads of "fair insects ... with thread-like legs spread out, and blood-extracting bill and filmy wing," which tortured us until the morning dawned, when we decided to move onward, and fly possibly to other evils that we knew not of. As we moved further westward, the scenery became more attractive and many objects of interest invited our attention. Among these was an apparently newly-made grave in the shade of two small and lonely trees. The earthly journey of some unfortunate traveler had been ended before it was really completed. Such a discovery will cause even the most careless wayfarer to pause and think at least for a moment on the great problems of life and death, and otherwise ponder much more than he would among a thousand graves in a potter's field. I soon noticed a card high up in the trunk of one of the trees and fastened to it by a rusty horseshoe nail. I immediately called some of the boys to see it. Upon the uncolored face of the card was printed a black figure somewhat Egyptian in outline. One after another of our party upon inspection failed to understand the significance or relevancy of the cabalistic design. Pete from a distance at once declared that it was a Jack of Spades, which in fact it was, but others were deciphering a somewhat faded epitaph written upon the margin with a lead pencil, which finally read as follows: "He played his last trump and lost."