his mother sewed and talked with me.  She had known my parents on the plains, and now let me sit at her feet, giving me her workbox, that I might look at its bobbins of different-colored thread and the pretty needle-book.  When I told her that the things looked a little like mother’s and that sometimes mother let me take the tiniest bit of her wax, she gave me permission to take a tiny taste of that which I held in my hand to see if it was like that which I remembered.

Only she, the baby, and I sat down to tea, yet she said that she was glad she had company, for baby’s papa was away with Captain Fremont, and she was lonesome.

After I learned that she would have to stay until he came back, I was troubled, and told what I had heard in the night.  She assured me that those in charge of the Fort heard every day all that was going on for miles and miles around, and that if they should learn that fighting Indians were coming, they would take all the white people and the good Indians into the fort, and then shoot the bad ones with the cannon that peeped through its embrasures.

The dainty meal and her motherly talk kept me a happy child until I heard the footsteps of the Lennox boys.  I knew they were coming for me, and that I should have to sleep in that dark room where I had been so afraid.  Quickly slipping from my chair, under the table, and hiding behind my new friend’s dress skirt, I begged her not to let them know where I was, and please, to let me stay with her all night.  I listened as she sent the boys back to tell their mother that she would keep me until morning, adding that she would step in and explain matters after she put her baby to bed.  Before I went to sleep she heard me say my prayers and kissed me good-night.

When I awoke next morning, I was not in her house, but in Mrs. Lennox’s wagon, on the way to Sonoma.

The distance between the Fort and Sonoma was only about eighty miles, yet the heavy roads and the frequent showers kept us on the journey more than a week.  It was still drizzling when we reached the town and Mrs. Lennox learned where the Brunners lived.  I had been told that they would be looking for me, and I expected to go to them at once.

As we approached the west bank of the creek, which winds south past the town, we could see the branches on the trees in grandma’s dooryard swaying.  Yet we could not reach there, because a heavy mountain storm had turned a torrent into the creek channel, washed away the foot bridge, and overflowed the low land.  Disappointed, we encamped on high ground to wait for the waters to recede.

Toward evening, Jakie gathering his cows on the opposite side, noticed our emigrant wagon, and oxen, and as he drew nearer recognized Mrs. Lennox.  Both signalled from where they stood, and soon he descried me, anxious to go to him.  He, also, was disappointed at the enforced delay, and returned often to cheer us, and to note the height of the water.  It seemed to me that we had been there days and days, when a Mission Indian on a gray pony happened to come our way, and upon learning what was wanted, signalled that he would carry me over for a Mexican silver dollar.  Jakie immediately drew the coin from his pocket and held it between thumb and forefinger, high above his head in the sunshine, to show the native that his price would be paid.