that my road led across the Jocko, and I was compelled to ford the stream. I felt the water and found it cold as death itself, so concluded that the best scheme would be to take off shoes and socks. Wading across was like traversing so much ice-water, and my feet were numbed when I reached the other side. Dry foot-gear soon remedied this, and I sped along through a wild but pleasing stretch of country, passing in turn the section houses known as Jocko, Duncan, and Parma stations. At a point forty-four miles west of Missoula the Jocko empties its flood into the Flathead river. For the next twenty-five miles the united streams are known as the Pend d'Oreille river. Then the muddy Missoula adds another current, and the name of the river changes to Clark's Fork of the Columbia; which it retains to its confluence with the Columbia river north of the international line, save in one place where the stream broadens to form lovely Pend d'Oreille lake.

At Parma my road recrossed the river and led over a mountain, so I decided to avoid another chilly ford by taking to the track of the Northern Pacific and wheeling on it to Paradise Valley and Horse Plains. The wheel covered the rough ties well, and now and then I could ride a trail made by the Indians along the track. I met quite a number of "Reds" at different points, and every mother's son of them, and daughter too, found much to admire in the wheel. In fact their delight was almost childish, and many a bold buck looked as though he would have swapped his whole herd of ponies and thrown in a few squaws and papooses in exchange for my trim, steel broncho from the far East.

My first view of Paradise Valley afforded a pleasing change from continuous mountain prospects. Nearing it, I passed the first Chinese laborers I had seen working on the railroads. They looked comical enough in rough costumes, topped off with huge sun-hats of bamboo, but they are useful workers, and are paid $1.15 per day, which enables them to save at least $25 per month. Numbers of them go back to their celestial homes in a few years with enough American currency to rank as rich men in China. Others gamble and smoke opium, and as a consequence remain almost paupers.

Entering Paradise Valley, I found it to be a beautiful fragment of fertile country, covered with a luxuriant growth of nutritious grasses, and surrounded by a cordon of stately heights, the whole forming a charming, though lonely scene. The valley is only four miles long by two broad, but it and Horse Plains, six miles away, have long been famous among the Indians as wintering grounds for the ponies.

The six miles of railroad between these points afforded pretty rough wheeling, but I bumped along over the ties at a fair gait. Horse Plains is a circular expanse about six miles in diameter. The fertile soil carries a great growth of grass, and on every side are high mountains, which, viewed from the level, present a most imposing appearance.

From Horse Plains a stony, dusty road extended through Eddy to the Thompson river. In many places I had to give it up and ride the ties, and more than once I noticed where wagons had traveled along with two wheels on the railroad and two on a narrow smooth strip beside the rails. All this stage lay through an unbroken mountain region, but I was amply repaid for toil and trouble by the scenery. Mountains towered high above the road; grand steeps and sternly rugged crags shut out a farther view, but every turn in the road revealed some new prospect apparently more impressive than the last, and I fairly reveled in the picturesque for mile after mile.

Upon reaching Thompson river I found that the five-mile run to Thompson's Falls had to be made over a road which traversed a flat and a timbered expanse, neither of which presented attractive features. Once the Falls appeared, however, I had a picture worth looking at. In the foreground the foamy tumult of tumbling waters-not imposing, but possessing that strange power common to all cataracts-and further off a long succession of wooded, rounding hills, their bases laved by the hurrying river, till lost in a blur of blue in dim distance.

From here to Hope, Idaho, seventyone miles distant, an old Indian trail leads through a wild, pine-forested region and traverses impossible mountain sides, if considered from a wheelman's point of view. The value of the “pneu

matic" was now more apparent than ever, for I had to make a long trip on the railway ties, and even over such a course the wheel could easily be made to cover from thirty to fifty miles per day. Leaving Thompson Falls next morning at eight o'clock, I followed a fair road near the track west to the Belknap bridge for five miles. Here my long ride on the ties began. Luckily the track was, for the most part, very well ballasted. An old road near Vermillion station leads to Trout creek, and I tried it, but two or three miles over broken trees and stumps drove me to the ties again. The country is a tract of unbroken forest; mile after mile on the south side of Clark's Fork river is completely burned out. The air was thick with smoke from forest fires and it was impossible to see farther than half a mile, while the rays of the sun did not cast a shadow even at high noon. In the afternoon I continued on the track past Noxon station to Smead's, where there was a large shingle factory and quite a settlement. Here I stopped for the night, fortytwo miles from Thompson Falls.

My ride next morning continued through more burnt forests. The ties were not so well filled in through Heron-Cabinet to Clark's Fork, but from here to Hope greatly improved. A poor road leads part way to Hope, but I preferred the ties.

Hope is a small railroad town, consisting of twenty or thirty houses and a fair sprinkling of saloons. But the little town possesses the grand advantage of being situated on the shore of lovely Lake Pend d'Oreille. Imagine a broad winding valley filled to the roadlevel with sparkling water and guarded on every side by steep forested mountains, which cast marvelous shadows across the flood, and you have an idea of Pend d'Oreille. The lake is, including its many windings, perhaps sixty miles long, and varies in width from three to fifteen miles.

Here I set my watch to Pacific time, three hours slower than when I left New York. Having four hours yet to sundown, I pushed on. Three miles west of Hope, a long trestle spans the Pack river and some low marshes. The timbers were only four inches apart, so

I was able to ride the entire bridge, a mile and a half long. The track bed was well packed between the ties, and I soon reached the once lively western town of Kootenai. Many buildings still remain, with doors and windows nailed up. Only two or three places are occupied. I kept on five miles farther to Sand Point, a small lumber town.

I was now thirty-three miles beyond the State line. Montana was the longest State I passed through, the distance from Beach to the Idaho line is eight hundred and thirty-two miles by road, about the distance from New York to Detroit.

The few roads near Hope and Sand Point are almost impassable for a wheel, stumps of trees being strewn all over them. I was informed that from Granite, twenty-two miles farther west, there was a fair road to Rathdrum.

Taking to the railroad ties out of Sand Point I rode over another mile and a half trestle across the outlet of Pend d'Oreille lake. Riding a mile farther a new railroad bed had lately been built, the gravel was thick and loose on the ties, so I was compelled to walk five miles. To Cocolalla and Granite it was fair wheeling again. Striking a wagon road here that was considerably used and cleared of all obstructions, I was soon merrily spinning through the pine forests. My hard ride of one hundred and nine miles on the ties was soon forgotten, but the road led to a farmer's ranch, who informed me, to my horror, that I was six miles north of the road to Rathdrum. Usually, when taking a wrong road I could easily get righted by going ahead and crossing over; but in this instance I was compelled to go back south over the same road to Granite. Being in a sparsely settled and a thick forest country I preferred to stay at Granite rather than run the risk of being caught out at night in the forest, and chance unsought interviews with wild animals. All along the Clark's Fork river and through this section, large and small game is plentiful. Deer had crossed my path, but vanished with remarkable rapidity at sight of me. Sometimes I saw the large footprints of bears, but I was not particularly anxious to follow them up.

HE troops composing the National Guard of the States of North Dakota and South Dakota were first organized under authority of the Organic Act of Dakota Territory and of the Acts of the Territorial Legislatures of 1877, 1883 and 1885. As early, however, as 1862, when the settlements were few and at great distances from one another, a force of about four hundred citizens organized themselves into military companies, in response to a proclamation issued by the Governor. They furnished at their own expense the necessary arms, ammunition, equipments, subsistence stores and transportation for defense against the Sioux Indians in the bloody campaigns of that and the following years. They fortified the few towns in the territory, escorted families to places of safety, and generally maintained their simple organization during the period of active hostilities.

In June, 1863, Brig.-Gen. Alfred Sully, United States Volunteers, was detached from the Army of the Potomac and ordered to the Northwest to conduct a campaign against the Sioux. With a force of volunteers (mounted infantry, cavalry and artillery) he marched from

Sioux City in the summer of 1864, and on July twenty-eighth found the Indians, consisting of Uncapapas, Sans Arcs, Minneconjous, Blackfeet and Yankton and Santee Sioux, between five and six thousand strong, formidably posted on Ta-ha-kouty Mountain.

The following spirited narrative of this action, by Col. U. T. Thomas, of the Eighth Minnesota Volunteer Infantry (in this campaign mounted as cavalry), is taken from "Minnesota in the Civil War," published under the authority of the State of Minnesota :

"On July twenty-sixth we corralled our train on Heart River, and leaving it under a strong guard, started northward in search of the Indians, and in the afternoon of the twenty-eighth found them located on Knife River, or rather among the foothills of some mountains near it. The camp was an extensive one, and embraced one hundred and ten bands of Sioux. They had congregated this great force to clean out the white soldiers, and appeared to believe they could do it. We were about three miles from the camp when they were first discovered by the scouts. There was no excitement apparent on either side, and both deliberately prepared for battle with equal confidence. The line was formed by dismounting three men out of four, leaving the fourth man in charge of the horses, who followed the line in close columns. The dismounted men were

ADJ.-GEN. E. HUNT-
INGTON.

supporting dis-
tance of the
line of battle.
It was a for-
midable-look-
ing force, and
when the For-
ward' was

bands would leave the camp and advance, but without any demonstration other than waving their arms in the air or cantering across the plain.

"At last they came within our reach, and a few rifle-shots precipitated the conflict, but not until we had passed half the distance to their camp. At the first shot everything was changed. The bands concentrated and, uttering their war-cries, they dashed toward our lines. Riding at full speed, they would fire their guns and wheel and disappear, and come again in front, and flanks, and rear. It was a continuous succession of charges, that were always repelled by the steady volleys of our men. We kept steadily advancing, their camp our objective point. Their confidence was such that they did not make an effort to save it until we were within half a mile; then, for the first time, we set the artillery to work and threw shells from eight guns with terrifying effect. Sixteen hundred lodges, filled with women and children, dogs and horses, and all

late and despoil them." General

Sully's force in this engagement consisted of two brigades; the First Brigade, composed of

MAJ. CHAS. T. JEFFERS, 2D REG.

eleven companies of the Sixth Iowa Cavalry, three companies of the Seventh Iowa Cavalry, two companies of Dakota cavalry, four companies of Brackett's Minnesota Battalion, a company of seventy scouts and a battery of four mountain howitzers, commanded by Captain Pope. The Second Brigade, commanded by Colonel Thomas, was composed of ten companies of the Eighth Minnesota Infantry, six companies Second Minnesota Cavalry and two sections (four pieces) of the Third Minnesota Battery, under Captain Jones, who was a fine old ordnance sergeant of the United States Army in the battle of Fort Ridgeley, on the Minnesota, in August, 1862. All were mounted. This action took place on Knife River, near the Whetstone Hills, and near the South Fork of the Cannonball River.

Returning to his camp on Heart River, General Sully resumed his advance and pushed the Indians through the Bad Lands of the Little Missouri, toward the Yellowstone River. When he first saw the marvelous freaks of nature in the Bad Lands, he characterized them to Colonel Thomas, of the Eighth Minnesota, who was riding with him at the head of the column, as "Hell with the fires put out."

Several severe fights between the troops and the Indians took place before the end of the campaign, which closed with the surrender of the Indians.

In the outbreak of the Sioux, which immediately preceded Sully's campaign, over seven hundred persons were murdered and two hundred women and children were carried into captivity. After trial and conviction by a military commission, Gen. Henry H. Sibley, United States Volunteers, caused thirtyeight of the Indian murderers to be executed at Mankato, Minnesota, on the twenty-sixth of December, 1862.

The Organic Act, the Act of 1877, and the amendments to the body of laws known as the "Political Code" in 1885, had provided for the enrollment and organization of the territorial militia; but no positive effort in the direction of National Guard organization was made until 1885. Governor Ordway, in 1880, reported to the Secretary of the Interior that, although the territorial Legislature had, several years before, enacted a comprehensive militia

law, it had not been put into operation for want of arms and equipments. The War Department had charged to the Territory large quantities of arms and ammunition, drawn under Governor Faulk's administration "for the ostensible defense of the territory against Indian raids, but which were really distributed to irresponsible persons, who lost them, or, possibly worse, sold them to the Indians."

While this pecuniary charge stood against the Territory, the War Depart ment declined to equip the militia, and the law remained a dead letter. Governor Ordway reported that independent military organizations existed in different portions of the Territory, which desired to be enrolled as part of the territorial militia, provided arms_and equipments could be secured for them. He advised the Secretary of the Interior that "A reasonable number of efficient military companies, located in different sections of the Territory, would be conservators of the peace and useful in case of incursions from hostile bands of Indians, and keep alive the martial and patriotic sentiments of the people."

In the summer of 1884 this martial spirit of the people began to show itself, and by the next summer nineteen companies were in existence and were incorporated into the First and Second Regiments, Dakota National Guard. In obedience to orders from the Governor of the Territory, commissions were issued as colonel to Mark W. Sheafe, Esq., of Watertown, and as lieutenant-colonel to Dr. William A. Bentley, of Bismarck, who organized the two regiments; Colonel Sheafe, the Second Regiment, from those companies in the southern part of the Territory, with his headquarters at Watertown; and Lieutenant-Colonel Bentley, the First Regiment, from the northerly and central companies, with headquar ters at Bismarck.

The two regiments were assembled in a camp of instruction in September, 1885, at Fargo, where they spent four days in military exercises. Lieut.-Col. Edwin F. Townsend, Eleventh United States Infantry, under orders from the Secretary of War, inspected these troops and assisted the regimental commanders materially in the way of suggestions and instruction. Governor Pierce reported to the Secretary of the