Saturday, July 8.
The scenic beauty of the route we have come over to-day was ever
changing. We were either coming through a narrow cañon, across a
beautiful vale, climbing or descending a steep hill or mountain.
Nellie Bower and I had started on horseback to have the morning to
ourselves, when Mr. Walker rode up and asked us to go with him to a
lovely spring of delightfully cold, clear water he knew of, some two
or three miles ahead. We consented, of course, and had soon left the
wagons behind us. Mr. W. has been over the road before and seems to
know the landmarks and places of interest. We found the spring, as
described, in a beautiful dell, where the loveliest wild flowers I ever
saw are growing luxuriantly. We were soon off our horses, enjoying the
cool, delicious spring water. We gave our horses a drink, and then we
each gathered a large bouquet of beautiful, fragrant wild flowers. They
certainly are “wasting their sweetness on the desert air.”
I believe we were almost an hour ahead of the train. Mother scolded,
and so did Mr. Bower, because we had gone so far ahead of the wagons,
for it is said these hills are full of Indians. I am all the time
forgetting about the Indians. Mr. Kerfoot will not allow his girls to
get out of sight. I am glad mother is not so exacting as that, but I
ought not to impose upon her good nature, and cause her to worry. I
never do intentionally, but sometimes I forget.
We are camping in a beautiful basin surrounded on all sides by high
hills, and where the grass is plentiful. There is only one other train
with us, but then it is the McMahan train, and they are all such
fine-looking young men--and of course they are brave--that I always
feel safe when they are near. Our captain has forbidden our going out
of sight of camp. There are cañons in all directions; how I would like
to explore.
Hillhouse and Sim Buford gathered some wild currants while herding;
they will pass for fruit, but they look better than they taste. We have
made sauce of them; with lots of sugar and cream they look inviting,
and the boys seem to like them; very few will satisfy me. We can
always have cream for breakfast, as the milk stands over night, and
a pat of the sweetest, most delicious butter every evening, when we
travel, as the milk is churned by the motion of the wagon. Fruit is
very necessary on this trip, because of the alkali in the water, dust,
and air we breathe, to keep us in health.
* * * * *
Sunday, July 9.
I was up very early this morning; I cannot spend precious time in
bed after daylight while we are camping in this delightful place and
have this perfect weather. I led Dick to the spring for a drink,
bathed my face and hands in the cool water, picked a bouquet for the
breakfast-table, and returned to camp to find the girls in bed. They
missed a glorious sight by not seeing the sun rise.
Mother and Mrs. Hardinbrooke went with me to the top of the hill
nearest camp this afternoon. They picked flowers and enjoyed the view
for a while, then returned to camp, leaving me to come later. I sat
on a large flat rock, just below the top, as mother said, “The Indians
could see me so much farther if on the very top.” I promised her I
would not go out of sight; that if an Indian carried me off they could
see him and know where I had gone. I did so enjoy the quiet of this
Sunday afternoon; I had Mrs. Prentiss’s delightful book, “Stepping
Heavenward,” to read, and time passed so quickly the sun was setting
before I thought of going back to camp. Some of the boys laughed and
said, “We were watching, and if an Indian had put in an appearance we’d
have settled him; we knew you would not see him until he had you.” I
thanked them for their watchfulness.