man helped, and together we got it where it was safe. Then we
led the children up to where the man had got ashore with his team.

By this time the rest of our train had crossed the river and were with
the man and his horses. When they learned just what had happened, they
became very indignant because the man had apparently abandoned his wife
and children to the mercies of the river, while he exerted himself to
save his team. Quicker than I can tell it, the tongue of the man's wagon
was set up on end, and hasty preparations being made to hang the man
from the end of it. Almost frantic with what she saw, the wife again
threw herself at my feet and begged me to save her husband. Her tears
and entreaties, probably more than all I said, finally quieted the men,
although some of them were still in favor of throwing him in the river.
We eventually helped them get their wagon together, when we moved on
and left them.

At this place the river runs down into a canon, where we had to ford it
four times in ten miles, the stream changing that many times from one
side of the rocky walls to the other. We made the last ford about middle
afternoon, and as it was Sunday, we put out for the day and night.

"Up with my tent, here will I lie to-night.
But where to-morrow? Well, all's well for that."

CHAPTER X.

BOOTS AND SADDLES CALL.

[Illustration: Music]

In nearly all lifetimes and in nearly all undertakings, there will occur
seasons which severally try not merely one's faith and courage, but
one's power of physical endurance as well; seasons when one's spirits
are fagged and stand in need of a reveille, or "Boots and Saddles" call.

The march of our little company during these mid-July days, with their
privations and sufferings, could scarcely have been maintained, but for
the notes of cheer which, by memory's route, came to us from out the
silent places of the past, or, on the wings of hope, alighted among us
from off the heights of the future.

The Humboldt River, which by this time had become to us quite a
memorable stream, was winding and crooked after coming out of the canon,
and could be traced through the desert only by the willows that grew
along its banks and around its shallow pools. Our route lay on the left
bank all the way down to the "sink."

It was the middle of July, with never a cloud in the sky, not a tree or
shade of any kind. The ground was heated like an oven and covered more
or les