We had journeyed only sixteen miles when, at eight o'clock, we pitched camp on the banks of the swollen Lake Fork River. The night was black. What a nasty predicament! No bottom to the soil anywhere; the mud and water reached to my boot-tops. Before unpacking we cut sage brush and trampled it into a large square bed two feet deep, on which to place our packs. Then, picketing the animals, we tried to kindle a fire with water-soaked brush sprinkled with coal oil; but failed. Soon a ranchman arrived leading his horse, and said he had almost lost his steed while fording the river and narrowly escaped drowning. He joined us in a cold supper of canned meat and corn, whiskey and water, then rode away in the pouring rain.
Our bed that night was anything but inviting. We could not pitch the tent. The soaked sage and the rain saturated our canvas sleeping-bag and dampened our clothing. How I regretted having disposed of those "superfluous" blankets at the K ranch. We were not only wet, but cold, rolled in two blankets and a quilt. When I awoke in the morning I even wrung the water out of the underwear I had slept in, and, also, my trousers and coat before I could get them on, and then in the still pouring rain ate a cold breakfast, saddled, packed, and resumed the trip.
That day we made twenty miles, and "ran" as terrible a gauntlet of thunderbolts as I ever witnessed. Next day it became necessary to swim Lake Fork. Mac said it was his Rubicon as well as mine.
The current was swift, and roared and foamed like a mountain torrent. My donkeys, brought to the water's edge, reared and wheeled and rushed intractably into the willows, scraping off their packs on the miry banks; it required a half hour to replace and securely cinch the luggage on the beasts so that it might not be washed away. Then, with stout willow goads and howling invectives, we drove the braying animals into the flood and followed them, fording or swimming across the river. Cheese was carried down stream and almost drowned.
Gaining the nether bank we tramped through storm and mire all day, making eighteen miles, and after dark camped with the party of a prairie schooner at the foot of a hill, where we found seasoned cedar stumps for fuel, and built a roaring fire. The soil there was more solid, the land gently sloping, and we pitched the tent near the wagon and fire, staked the donkeys, and joined hands with our chance acquaintances to provide the evening meal. The good woman of the party gave us a pie, a can of beef and a loaf of bread; these luxuries, together with boiled potatoes and hot coffee, put our bodies in prime condition for a sound night's sleep in wet garments and bedding. My provisions were not only quite spoiled by the rain and river water, but were insufficient to last us through.