North Platte

At four o'clock we began the descent into the valley of the Michigan fork of the North Platte.

For her North Platte, “strictly moral,” and the guardianship of her broad 20 motherly wing I had no ardent feeling.

We get to North Platte after plumb dark, and you hang onto my skirts right up town, till I land you in a good place.

Without regrets I abandoned my former seat-mate to her disappointment when she waked at North Platte.

We marched twenty and a half miles and once more encamped on the North Platte.