e must have been at least
fifty children, and it seemed I knew them all of long time; and there
were at least two score of women. These went about the preparations for
cooking supper.

While some of the men chopped sage-brush and we children carried it to
the fires that were kindling, other men unyoked the oxen and let them
stampede for water. Next the men, in big squads, moved the wagons snugly
into place. The tongue of each wagon was on the inside of the circle,
and, front and rear, each wagon was in solid contact with the next wagon
before and behind. The great brakes were locked fast; but, not content
with this, the wheels of all the wagons were connected with chains. This
was nothing new to us children. It was the trouble sign of a camp in
hostile country. One wagon only was left out of the circle, so as to
form a gate to the corral. Later on, as we knew, ere the camp slept, the
animals would be driven inside, and the gate-wagon would be chained like
the others in place. In the meanwhile, and for hours, the animals would
be herded by men and boys to what scant grass they could find.

While the camp-making went on my father, with several others of the men,
including the old man with the long, sunburnt hair, went away on foot in
the direction of the mill. I remember that all of us, men, women, and
even the children, paused to watch them depart; and it seemed their
errand was of grave import.

While they were away other men, strangers, inhabitants of desert Nephi,
came into camp and stalked about. They were white men, like us, but they
were hard-faced, stern-faced, sombre, and they seemed angry with all our
company. Bad feeling was in the air, and they said things calculated to
rouse the tempers of our men. But the warning went out from the women,
and was passed on everywhere to our men and youths, that there must be no
words.

One of the strangers came to our fire, where my mother was alone,
cooking. I had just come up with an armful of sage-brush, and I stopped
to listen and to stare at the intruder, whom I hated, because it was in
the air to hate, because I knew that every last person in our company
hated these strangers who were white-skinned like us and because of whom
we had been compelled to make our camp in a circle.

This stranger at our fire had blue eyes, hard and cold and piercing. His
hair was sandy. His face was shaven to the chin, and from under the
chin, covering the neck and exten