eard showed that he was already
well-grayed. His mouth was unusually wide, with thin lips tightly
compressed as if he had lost many of his front teeth. His nose was
large, square, and thick. So was his face square, wide between the
cheekbones, underhung with massive jaws, and topped with a broad,
intelligent forehead. And the eyes, rather small, a little more than the
width of an eye apart, were the bluest blue I had ever seen.

It was at the flour-mill at Fillmore that I first saw this man. Father,
with several of our company, had gone there to try to buy flour, and I,
disobeying my mother in my curiosity to see more of our enemies, had
tagged along unperceived. This man was one of four or five who stood in
a group with the miller during the interview.

"You seen that smooth-faced old cuss?" Laban said to father, after we had
got outside and were returning to camp.

Father nodded.

"Well, that's Lee," Laban continued. "I seen'm in Salt Lake. He's a
regular son-of-a-gun. Got nineteen wives and fifty children, they all
say. An' he's rank crazy on religion. Now, what's he followin' us up
for through this God-forsaken country?"

Our weary, doomed drifting went on. The little settlements, wherever
water and soil permitted, were from twenty to fifty miles apart. Between
stretched the barrenness of sand and alkali and drought. And at every
settlement our peaceful attempts to buy food were vain. They denied us
harshly, and wanted to know who of us had sold them food when we drove
them from Missouri. It was useless on our part to tell them we were from
Arkansas. From Arkansas we truly were, but they insisted on our being
Missourians.

At Beaver, five days' journey south from Fillmore, we saw Lee again. And
again we saw hard-ridden horses tethered before the houses. But we did
not see Lee at Parowan.

Cedar City was the last settlement. Laban, who had ridden on ahead, came
back and reported to father. His first news was significant.

"I seen that Lee skedaddling out as I rid in, Captain. An' there's more
men-folk an' horses in Cedar City than the size of the place 'd warrant."

But we had no trouble at the settlement. Beyond refusing to sell us
food, they left us to ourselves. The women and children stayed in the
houses, and though some of the men appeared in sight they did not, as on
former occasions, enter our camp and taunt us.

It was at Cedar City that the Wainwright baby died. I remember