Not a few who had purposed to go to California that year turned off on the Oregon road to escape the contagion which the dense crowd seemed to afford this disease. Excepting in these cholera years and in 1847 there were only infrequent cases of mountain fever and forms of dysentery that were developed in the alkali regions of the mountains. [Illustration: 13.—“DEVIL’S GATE,” AS SEEN FROM ABOVE. ] A train of pioneers with sensible outfit emerging into the valley of the Platte in a season free from the cholera affliction could almost make it for a time a grand pleasure excursion. The heat was not yet oppressive, the roads good, the air exhilarating, the boundless expanse of green undulating prairie under crystal skies filled them with a sense of freedom. The exciting buffalo hunt was soon on and afforded them a welcome addition to a diet exceedingly unvaried at best. After the usual trudge during the day amid a panorama not yet monotonous the wagons would be driven to form approximately a circle—the end of the tongue or the front wheel of one lapping the hind wheel of the wagon in front, according as a more or less spacious corral was desired. The oxen would be unyoked and taken to water and then to the selected grazing spot. Fires would be kindled alongside each wagon outside of the corral for preparing the evening meal. After it was partaken of there would be an hour or two before darkness settled down upon them. Then the cattle would be brought within the corral, if there was the least apprehension of danger, and all except the guards for the first watch and possibly the matrons with multitudinous family cares would quickly surrender themselves to sleep. But congenial groups of young people would generally have a social hour or two. A blanket or extra wagon covering was thrown on the ground beside the wagon, and, when rain threatened, spread under the wagon. (Most were probably without tents other than the canvas tops of their wagons.) This with something for a covering sufficed for the beds of the young men and boys. In the morning at a given signal all were astir—and, if the cattle had not strayed during the night or been stampeded by Indians, breakfast over, everything was soon in readiness for falling in, each in his appointed place, and taking up the march that should bring them a day nearer to their Oregon home. But this idyllic succession of days very soon developed a very seamy side.