We had not then
seen the verses of Joaquin Miller, in which he expresses the same idea
in better words--in words of prophecy.
After a long hot ride we were glad to see the flag waving over Fort
Fetterman, though the signs of human habitation did not seem to belong
there. The post is not as large as Fort Laramie, but otherwise as like
it as one pea to another, and stands in the same way at the junction
of a stream (La Prele) with the Platte, upon a bluff that commands the
two rivers. The view from thence at the moment of sunset was
impressive--of the two streams, bordered with green, and the vast
country beyond the Platte, more barren and alkaline even than the
nearer side.
At the fort we found the same kindness and hospitality as at Laramie.
Our quarters were in a large empty house, the abode of the commanding
officer of the post, then absent with his family, where we were made
very comfortable. Our meals were provided at other officers' quarters,
and everything was done for our entertainment. Our rooms were on the
ground floor, and we were startled at reveille to see five or six dogs
leap in at the open windows and run about the floor.
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