My wagon-beds became splendid playhouses for the Indian children from the villages, who are very much like other children, despite their red skins.
I joined them in their games, and from them picked up a fair working knowledge of the Sioux language.

The acquaintance I formed here was to save my scalp and life later, but I little suspected it then.
I spent the summer of '58 in and about Laramie.

I was getting to be a big, husky boy now, and felt that I had entered on what was to be my career--as indeed I had.
In January, '59, Simpson was ordered back to Missouri as brigade train-master of three wagon-trains, traveling a day apart.

Because of much travel the grass along the regular trail was eaten so close that the feed for the bulls was scanty.
Instead of following the trail down the South Platte, therefore, Simpson picked a new route along the North Platte.

There was no road, but the grass was still long, and forage for the cattle was necessary.
We had accomplished about half our journey with no sign of hostile Indians.