Dear God, the reading public an author must suffer as he gathers up his laurels! Filthy business, I tell you, this writing! Filthy!

And as the Platte River swelled, you can be sure the ranks of the Indians did, too! I know this because each time I joined such a group, I led it. Even the times I did not set out upon a journey as its captain, I surely ended it as one!

Crossing a Continent is not a parlor game to be played in parlor conveyed upon wheels in a PALACE WAGON! In the summer of 1843, when I was but 24 years old, I was leading a party for a second time, from Oregon down to Sutter's Fort in California, when a certain incident occurred—one I may as well recite as I recounted it in my guide, as we can be sure that this is exactly what the Donners knew of it:

my meditations were interrupted by the sudden appearance of two Indians, who were in close pursuit of a fine fat cow, which had strayed from the party...I immediately gave chase to these intruders upon my solitude, without being observed by them, until I had approached within about thirty yards of them...

I so alarmed one of them, that he yelled most furiously, and with tremendous leaps, soon reached a deep ravine, which afforded him a secure retreat, as its banks were thickly studded, with willows. Turning to the other, I found him still in hot pursuit of his intended prey; but as he saw that I had turned my attention to him, he also fled with unusual rapidity, and took refuge with his comrade, among the same willows...The party soon came up, and the cow very soon fell a victim to our returning appetites; but we saw no more of our noble competitors. Perhaps the one was engaged, in some secluded place, extracting buckshot, from the lower limbs of his fellow.

[He laughs, delighted with the recollection, yet anticipates a hostile reaction from his "Dear Reader."]

Oh, come now! I didn't kill the Injun—if only because he would've been too heavy to hang about my neck.

Ah! well-a-day! what evil looks
Had I from old and young!
Instead of the cross, the Albatross
About my neck was hung.

[He laughs again.]

Would you deny a lad his lark? Christ, it was only buckshot! I was only 24 and I just shot to scare. I shot because...because that cow was ours!

Yet, you disapprove. Oh, Dear, Dear Reader, I know you do. Perhaps you are too polite to give voice to your disapproval, but as the intuitive author I am, I sense it. As one who has led, I know it! And, as a seasoned leader, I will tell, you, Dear Reader, what you, yes you, do not know:

Danger.

You do not and cannot know the animal you are, Dear Reader, until you have faced down the danger I have known. I have had families in my charge; I have had men who have trusted me and I have had men whom I have placed in positions to die and you, Dear Reader, most likely do not know such things. And if you do, then I highly doubt you disapprove.