s. And as we toiled through the
lurid dust of sunset often I scanned my father's face in vain quest of
some message of cheer. I will not say that my father's face, in all its
dusty haggardness, was hopeless. It was dogged, and oh! so grim and
anxious, most anxious.

A thrill seemed to run along the train. My father's head went up. So
did mine. And our horses raised their weary heads, scented the air with
long-drawn snorts, and for the nonce pulled willingly. The horses of the
outriders quickened their pace. And as for the herd of scarecrow oxen,
it broke into a forthright gallop. It was almost ludicrous. The poor
brutes were so clumsy in their weakness and haste. They were galloping
skeletons draped in mangy hide, and they out-distanced the boys who
herded them. But this was only for a time. Then they fell back to a
walk, a quick, eager, shambling, sore-footed walk; and they no longer
were lured aside by the dry bunch-grass.

"What is it?" my mother asked from within the wagon.

"Water," was my father's reply. "It must be Nephi."

And my mother: "Thank God! And perhaps they will sell us food."

And into Nephi, through blood-red dust, with grind and grate and jolt and
jar, our great wagons rolled. A dozen scattered dwellings or shanties
composed the place. The landscape was much the same as that through
which we had passed. There were no trees, only scrub growths and sandy
bareness. But here were signs of tilled fields, with here and there a
fence. Also there was water. Down the stream ran no current. The bed,
however, was damp, with now and again a water-hole into which the loose
oxen and the saddle-horses stamped and plunged their muzzles to the eyes.
Here, too, grew an occasional small willow.

"That must be Bill Black's mill they told us about," my father said,
pointing out a building to my mother, whose anxiousness had drawn her to
peer out over our shoulders.

An old man, with buckskin shirt and long, matted, sunburnt hair, rode
back to our wagon and talked with father. The signal was given, and the
head wagons of the train began to deploy in a circle. The ground
favoured the evolution, and, from long practice, it was accomplished
without a hitch, so that when the forty wagons were finally halted they
formed a circle. All was bustle and orderly confusion. Many women, all
tired-faced and dusty like my mother, emerged from the wagons. Also
poured forth a very horde of children. Ther