The wagons had started, so I mounted Dick and was off. As I came into
the road I looked back, and saw Milt coming in sight, driving his lame
oxen. I left the road once more and went to Frasier’s grave. His son
has set it with prickly pears, so closely that it will make a pretty
mound if it grows, and will be a protection from wolves, unless their
hides are thick and tough. Poor boy, he must have been seriously
scratched while transplanting the prickly things, but perhaps it was a
relief to his mental suffering, to bear physical pain while trying to
do a last something for his poor father.
I spent a dreary morning. I feel the parting with our friends so
distressingly. It is not likely we will meet again in this life. I
think Sim is feeling blue over it, too.
We met a squad of soldiers from Green River going to arrest
Hosstetter, and take him to Fort Bridger for trial. They say his trial
was not legal. He and all the witnesses will have to go by the way of
Fort Bridger, and will perhaps be detained for some time. I do hope for
his own and his family’s sake he will be cleared. The upper road from
Rock Springs goes by the way of Fort Bridger, I think, for the soldiers
spoke as if it was not on this road.
We arrived at Green River about three o’clock. The river is about as
wide, deep and swift as the North Platte, yet I have not dreaded any
of the rivers we have crossed as I did dread to ford this one. Perhaps
it was because there are so few of us, for in numbers there is a
feeling of security, even in crossing deep and dangerous streams. We
crossed without accident or loss, and are camping on the west bank of
Green River. When we first came to the river, one of Mr. Curry’s boys
exclaimed:
“Well, this river is named right. If I had been going to name it, I
believe I would have named it Green River, too, for it is green.”
The water is very clear, yet the river has a bluish-green appearance. I
do not understand why.
There are several corrals along the river, but the people are
strangers, so we feel very much alone. There is a station here and
soldiers’ tents within sight. We are camping on blue grass, with the
mountains very close. They are the highest I have seen. I would like
to climb to the top, but mother says there are too many soldiers and
strangers around.
At the foot of the mountain, a little way from our camp, there is a
graveyard with about a dozen graves. It is a beautiful spot, with the
mountain for an enduring monument. Several of the graves have been
made this year, with names and dates quite distinct on the plain pine
headboards. Others are entirely worn or washed off by the relentless
hand of time and storm. It seems that Bitter Creek was too much for the
weak or frail constitutions. Like Moses, they were permitted to look
upon the better land before they died.
* * * * *
Monday, August 7.
The soldiers brought Hosstetter here in the night, and I suppose the
witnesses came too. I wanted to go to the station to see if I could
hear anything from Neelie, and the rest of the sick folks, but mother
did not want me to go where there are so many soldiers, so I did not
go. We started very early this morning and have driven about twenty
miles. Are camping on Black Fork, where the horses and cattle are just
wading in fine pasture right around camp.
We ascended a mountain this morning that was seven miles from base to
summit, the way the road is. We had toilsome climbing, and I guess the
teams found it a hard road to travel before we reached the top. I came
on in advance of the wagons, sometimes riding and sometimes leading
Dick where it was very steep, and had time to enjoy the magnificent
scenery that lay spread out on all sides. The snowy range could be seen
in the distance, glittering in the morning sunshine. The wild currants
are here in abundance. I am going fishing with the boys, so I must be
off.