Within the week, Indians again sneaked up to camp, and stole one of Mr. Graves’s saddle-horses.  These were trials which made men swear vengeance, yet no one felt that it would be safe to follow the marauders.  Who could know that the train was not being stealthily followed by cunning plunderers who would await their chance to get away with the wagons, if left weakly guarded?

Conditions now were such that it seemed best to divide the train into sections and put each section under a sub-leader.  Our men were well equipped with side arms, rifles, and ammunition; nevertheless, anxious moments were common, as the wagons moved slowly and singly through dense thickets, narrow defiles, and rugged mountain gorges, one section often being out of sight of the others, and each man realizing that there could be no concerted action in the event of a general attack; that each must stay by his own wagon and defend as best he could the lives committed to his care.  No one rode horseback now, except the leaders, and those in charge of the loose cattle.  When darkness obscured the way, and after feeding-time, each section formed its wagons into a circle to serve as cattle corral, and night watches were keenly alert to give a still alarm if anything unusual came within sight or sound.

Day after day, from dawn to twilight, we moved onward, never stopping, except to give the oxen the necessary nooning, or to give them drink when water was available.  Gradually, the distance between sections lengthened, and so it happened that the wagons of my father and my uncle were two days in advance of the others, on the eighth of October, when Mr. Reed, on horseback, overtook us.  He was haggard and in great tribulation.  His lips quivered as he gave substantially the following account of circumstances which had made him the slayer of his friend, and a lone wanderer in the wilderness.

On the morning of October 5, when Mr. Reed’s section broke camp, he and Mr. Eddy ventured off to hunt antelope, and were shot at a number of times by Indians with bows and arrows.  Empty-handed and disappointed, the two followed and overtook their companions about noon, at the foot of a steep hill near “Gravelly Ford,” where the teams had to be doubled for the ascent.  All the wagons, except Pike’s and Reed’s, and one of Graves’s in charge of John Snyder, had already been taken to the top.  Snyder was in the act of starting his team, when Milton Elliot, driving Reed’s oxen, with Eddy’s in the lead, also started.  Suddenly, the Reed and Eddy cattle became unmanageable, and in some way got mixed up with Snyder’s team.  This provoked both drivers, and fierce words passed between them.  Snyder declared that the Reed team ought to be made to drag its wagon up without help.  Then he began to beat his own cattle about the head to get them out of the way.

Mr. Reed attempted to remonstrate with him for his cruelty, at which Snyder became more enraged, and threatened to strike both Reed and Elliot with his whip for interfering.  Mr. Reed replied sharply that they would settle the matter later.  This, Synder took as a threat, and retorted, “No, we’ll settle it right here,” and struck Reed over the head with the butt end of his whip, cutting an ugly scalp wound.