The boats, an hour or two later, stopped at a little landing, and many of the lads would gladly have gone ashore for a few moments, risking possible sharpshooters in the woods, but not one was allowed to leave the vessels.

But Dick's steamer lay so close to the one carrying the Pennsylvanians that he could talk across the few intervening feet of water with Warner and Whitley.

He also took the opportunity to introduce his new friend Pennington, of Nebraska.
"Are you the son of John Pennington, who lived for a little while at Fort Omaha ?" asked the sergeant.
"Right you are," replied the young hunter, "I'm his third son." "Then you're the third son of a brave man.

I was in the regular army and often we helped the pioneers against the Indians.

I remember being in one fight with him against the Sioux on the Platte, and in another against the Northern Cheyennes in the Jumping Sand Hills." "Hurrah!" cried Pennington.