in the least who I was. It made me think
that perhaps I was shadowy--invisible--although to myself I did not feel
at all that way.

Faye wrote to Mr. Ames about Rollo, thinking that possibly he might buy
him back, but Mr. Ames wrote in reply that Rollo had already been sold,
because Mrs. Ames had found it impossible to manage him. Also that he
was owned by the post trader at Fort Maginnis, who was making a pet of
him. So, as the horse had a good home and gentle treatment, it was once
more decided to leave him up in his native mountains. It might have
been cruel to have brought him here to suffer from the heat, and to be
frightened and ever fretted by the many strange sights and sounds. But I
am not satisfied, for the horse had an awful fear of men when ridden or
driven by them, and I know that he is so unhappy and wonders why I no
longer come to him, and why I do not take him from the strange people
who do not understand him. He was a wonderfully playful animal, and
sometimes when Miller would be leading the two horses from our yard to
the corral, he would turn Rollo loose for a run. That always brought
out a number of soldiers to see him rear, lunge, and snort; his turns
so quick, his beautiful tawny mane would be tossed from side to side
and over his face until he looked like a wild horse. The more the men
laughed the wilder he seemed to get. He never forgot Miller, however,
but would be at the corral by the time he got there, and would go to his
own stall quietly and without guidance. Poor Rollo!

CAMP NEAR UINTAH MOUNTAINS, WYOMING TERRITORY, August, 1888.

TO be back in the mountains and in camp is simply glorious! And to see
soldiers walking around, wearing the dear old uniform, just as we used
to see them, makes one feel as though old days had returned. The two
colored men--chef and butler--rather destroy the technique of a military
camp, but they seem to be necessary adjuncts; and besides, we are not
striving for harmony and effect, but for a fine outing, each day to be
complete with its own pleasures. It was a novel experience to come to
the mountains in a private car! The camp is very complete, as the camp
of a department commander should be, and we have everything for our
comfort. We are fourteen miles from the Union Pacific Railroad and six
from Fort Bridger, from which post our tents and supplies came. Our ice
is sent from there, also, and of course the enlisted men are from that
garrison.

The party co