The evening was devoted to friendly intercourse, and the camp was merry with song and melodies dear to loved ones around the old hearthstones.

Meanwhile, Captain Russell had drawn a plan of the craft that should be built, and had marked the cottonwood trees on the river bank, half a mile above camp, that would furnish the necessary materials.

Bright and early the following morning, volunteer boat-builders went to work with a will, and by the close of day had felled two trees about three and a half feet in diameter, had hollowed out the trunks, and made of them a pair of canoes twenty-five feet in length.  In addition to this, they had also prepared timbers for the frames to hold them parallel, and insure the wagon wheels a steady place while being ferried across the river.

The workers were well satisfied with their accomplishment.  There was, however, sorrow instead of rejoicing in camp, for Mrs. Reed’s aged mother, who had been failing for some days, died that night.  At two o’clock the next afternoon, she was buried at the foot of a monarch oak, in a neat cottonwood coffin, made by men of the party, and her grave was marked by a headstone.

[Illustration:  Governor L.W.  Boggs]

[Illustration:  Corral such as was formed by each section for the protection of its cattle]

The craft being finished on the morning of the thirtieth of May, was christened Blue Rover, and launched amid cheers of the company.  Though not a thing of beauty, she was destined to fulfil the expectations of our worthy Captain.  One set of guide-ropes held her in place at the point of embarkation, while swimmers on horseback carried another set of ropes across the river and quickly made them fast.  Only one wagon at a time could cross, and great difficulty was experienced in getting the vehicles on and off the boat.  Those working near the bank stood in water up to their arm-pits, and frequently were in grave peril.  By the time the ninth wagon was safely landed, darkness fell.

The only unforeseen delay that had occurred was occasioned by an awkward slip of the third wagon while being landed.  The Blue Rover groaned under the shock, leaned to one side and swamped one of the canoes.  However, the damage was slight and easily repaired.  The next day was Sunday; but the work had to go on, and the Rev. Mr. Cornwall was as ready for it as the rest of the toilers.

Much anxiety was experienced when the cattle were forced into the water, and they had a desperate struggle in crossing the current; but they finally reached the opposite bank without accident.  Each family embarked in its own wagon, and the last was ferried over in the rain at nine o’clock that night.  The ropes were then detached from the Blue Rover, and she drifted away in the darkness.