My father at this time was running a stage line, between Chicago and Davenport, no railroads then having been built west of Chicago.  In 1849 he got the California fever and made up his mind to cross the great plains—­which were then and for years afterwards called the American Desert—­to the Pacific coast.  He got ready a complete outfit and started with quite a party.  After proceeding a few miles, all but my father, and greatly to his disappointment, changed their minds for some reason and abandoned the enterprise.  They all returned home, and soon afterwards father moved his family out to Walnut Grove Farm, in Scott county.

[Illustration:  Youthful adventures.]

While living there I was sent to school, more for the purpose of being kept out of mischief than to learn anything.  Much of my time was spent in trapping quails, which were very plentiful.  I greatly enjoyed studying the habits of the little birds, and in devising traps to take them in.  I was most successful with the common figure “4” trap which I could build myself.  Thus I think it was that I acquired my love for hunting.  I visited the quail traps twice a day, morning and evening, and as I had now become quite a good rider I was allowed to have one of the farm horses to carry me over my route.  Many a jolly ride I had and many a boyish prank was perpetrated after getting well away from and out of the sight of home with the horse.

There was one event which occurred in my childhood, which I cannot recall without a feeling of sadness.  It was the death of my brother Samuel, who was accidentally killed in his twelfth year.

My father at the time, being considerable of a politician as well as a farmer, was attending a political convention; for he was well known in those days as an old line Whig.  He had been a member of the Iowa legislature, was a Justice of the Peace, and had held other offices.  He was an excellent stump speaker and was often called upon to canvass the country round about for different candidates.  The convention which he was attending at the time of the accident was being held at a cross-road tavern called “Sherman’s,” about a mile away.

Samuel and I had gone out together on horseback for the cows.  He rode a vicious mare, which mother had told him time and again not to ride, as it had an ugly disposition.  We were passing the school house just as the children were being dismissed, when Samuel undertook to give an exhibition of his horsemanship, he being a good rider for a boy.  The mare, Betsy, became unmanageable, reared and fell backward upon him, injuring him internally.  He was picked up and carried amid great excitement to the house of a neighbor.

I at once set out with my horse at the top of his speed for my father, and informed him of Samuel’s mishap.  He took the horse and returned immediately.  When I arrived at Mr. Burns’ house, where my brother was, I found my father, mother and sisters there, all weeping bitterly at Samuel’s bedside.  A physician, after examining him, pronounced his injuries to be of a fatal character.  He died the next morning.