The night of June 22 we were all across, and camped under large cottonwood trees on the west bank of the Big Blue. Here a small cyclone struck us in the night. It blew the most of the tents loose and cast water down upon us in sheets rather than drops. Its roaring through the trees, and casting down branches from them, was fearful for a few minutes, and after it was over the fact that neither man nor beast was hurt, though thoroughly drenched, was truly wonderful. Near this camp a human skeleton was found, concealed in a thicket; and a broken arrow, indicating the mortal wounding of a warrior, red or white. In the timber belts of this stream the last signs of wild bees were seen by us.
Some signs of dissatisfaction with General Gilliam's leadership are manifest. We travel westward, indeed, but there is not the general eagerness to do and help that there was before we were stopped on the east side of the stream so often for so slight apparent reasons.
On June 30 we stopped for washing and drying out purposes, and in the afternoon the boys and young men went down stream a little way and bathed and played as though danger from any source were not thought of. That night a gun was fired by a guard, and a call to arms rang out. Rees succeeded in waking me as he finished dressing, and left me yet rather dazed. I then heard a conversation between the tent and the big wagon, out of which Captain Morrison was taking his rifle and accoutrements. Mrs. Morrison was asking to know where her gun was. He replied, "Oh, you will not need a gun." "Well, Wilson, I hope not I am sure, but I want to be ready in case there is need." He replied, "Rees has taken the little rifle, and yours is hanging to the bows of the little wagon, the pouch and powderhorn with it. I am going to the guard tent."
