As we neared the Fort we passed a large camp of fine-looking Indians who, I was told, were the friendly Walla-Wallas, that came every spring to trade ponies, and otter, and beaver-skins with Captain Sutter for provisions, blankets, beads, gun caps, shot, and powder.

A large emigrant wagon stood near the adobe house where my new brother-in-law drew rein.  Before dismounting, he reached back, took me by the arm and carefully supported me as I slid from the horse to the ground.  I was so stiff that I could hardly stand, but he led me to the door where we were welcomed by a good-natured woman, to whom he said,

“Well, Mrs. Lennox, you see I’ve brought the little girl.  I don’t think she’ll be much trouble, unless she talks you to death.”

Then he told her that I had, during the ride, asked him more questions than a man six times his size could answer.  But she laughed, and “’lowed” that I couldn’t match either of her three boys in asking questions, and then informed him that she did not “calculate on making the move until the roads be dryer and the weather settled.”  She promised, however, that I should have good care until I could be handed over to the Brunners.  After a few words with her in private Perry McCoon bade me good-bye, and passed out of my life forever.

I was now again with emigrants who had crossed the plains in 1846, but who had followed the Fort Hall route and so escaped the misfortunes that befell the Donner Party.

Supper over, Mrs. Lennox made me a bed on the floor in the far corner of the room.  I must have fallen asleep as soon as my head touched the pillow, for I remember nothing more until I was awakened by voices, and saw the candle still burning and Mrs. Lennox and two men and a woman sitting near the table.  The man speaking had a shrill voice, and his words were so terrifying that I shook all over; my hair felt as though it were trying to pull itself out by its roots; a cold sweat dampened my clothes.  I was afraid to move or to turn my eyes.  Listening, I tried to remember how many Indians he was talking about.  I knew it must be a great many, for it was such a long word.  After they went away and the house was dark, I still seemed to see his excited manner and to hear him say: 

“Mrs. Lennox, we’ve got to get out of here right away, for I heard tell at the store before I come up that there’s bound to be an Injun outbreak.  Them savages from Sonora are already on their way up, and they’ll kill and scalp every man, woman, and child they can ketch, and there’s nothing to keep them from ketching us, if we stay at this here little fort any longer.”

I lay awake a long while.  I did not dare call out because I imagined some of those Indians might have got ahead of the rest and be sneaking up to our house at that very moment.  I wondered where I could hide if they should climb through the window, and I felt that Georgia would never know what had become of me, if they should kill and scalp me.