Platte River, which for 500 miles had been almost constantly near us. For this stream every traveler on these plains must be thankful, stretching as it does through arid wastes. Without it we should have found it difficult to exist. Since that day the tributaries of the turbulent Platte have been diverted to irrigation purposes, leaving it at times little else than an extinct river. After supper Ben, Fred and I strolled out on foot for a closer inspection of the Red Buttes, which are so named because of their deep red coloring. They are similar in character to those in the Garden of the Gods in Colorado, though more extensive. The summits like those of many of the bluffs in the clay lands, are level and apparently destitute of vegetation. The sides are nearly perpendicular, and as they offered no temptation for a climb, we turned our footsteps toward the camp. The sun had just sunk below the horizon, and a big, bright moon was already on duty, to give promise of a glorious night. Overtaking a grizzled old man who had evidently been traveling in the protection of the big train, we accosted him, as was the free and easy custom in the West. He answered us cheerily and congratulated us on having finally fallen in with the train, as he was confident that no other outfit would soon be moving westward over that road. "Are you a freighter?" we asked. "No," he replied, "and yet I may say that I have done considerable traveling through this country with trains that carried freight. I have a ranch west of here." "Have you had much trouble with the Indians?" we naturally asked. "They have been keeping us pretty busy the last two years. Did you hear about Hugh Kuykendall's train?" he continued. "Yes," was the reply, "we separated from it on Friday, the 13th of this month. Is there anything new concerning it?" "Yes," he replied, "it was attacked by the Sioux, and at last reports the train was surrounded by about seven hundred Indians, and the men were trying to hold them off and will put up a stiff fight. A herder who was on the outside rode in and reported the situation at Horse Shoe Creek, and a few troops were sent forward to assist, and that is the latest. Remember, boys, that you are in the Indian country, and you should keep pretty close to your base." "Have you been in this country long?" we asked. "Yes, several years. As a boy I was with Descoteaux, the trapper, who in 1842 was with Colonel John C. Fremont and with him made the ascent of Fremont Peak." Pursuing this line of conversation as we were approaching our camp we asked the trapper's name. "I am known as Tom Soon, but the two words together sound so like Thompson that I am often known by that name." On reaching the camp we presented Tom to the Warnes. CHAPTER XVIII A NIGHT AT RED BUTTES