The Oregon Trail By Francis Parkman, Jr.















































































































































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It was late that morning before we were on the march; and early in 
the afternoon we were compelled to - Page 51
The Oregon Trail By Francis Parkman, Jr. - Page 51 of 486 - First - Home

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It Was Late That Morning Before We Were On The March; And Early In The Afternoon We Were Compelled To Encamp, For A Thunder-Gust Came Up And Suddenly Enveloped Us In Whirling Sheets Of Rain.

With much ado, we pitched our tents amid the tempest, and all night long the thunder bellowed and growled over our heads.

In the morning, light peaceful showers succeeded the cataracts of rain, that had been drenching us through the canvas of our tents. About noon, when there were some treacherous indications of fair weather, we got in motion again.

Not a breath of air stirred over the free and open prairie; the clouds were like light piles of cotton; and where the blue sky was visible, it wore a hazy and languid aspect. The sun beat down upon us with a sultry penetrating heat almost insupportable, and as our party crept slowly along over the interminable level, the horses hung their heads as they waded fetlock deep through the mud, and the men slouched into the easiest position upon the saddle. At last, toward evening, the old familiar black heads of thunderclouds rose fast above the horizon, and the same deep muttering of distant thunder that had become the ordinary accompaniment of our afternoon's journey began to roll hoarsely over the prairie. Only a few minutes elapsed before the whole sky was densely shrouded, and the prairie and some clusters of woods in front assumed a purple hue beneath the inky shadows. Suddenly from the densest fold of the cloud the flash leaped out, quivering again and again down to the edge of the prairie; and at the same instant came the sharp burst and the long rolling peal of the thunder.

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