When the moccasins were finished in the morning we began to get our cattle together when it was discovered that Old Brigham was gone, and the general belief was that the Indians had made a quiet raid on us and got away with the old fellow.  We circled around till we found his track and then Arcane followed it while we made ready the others.  Arcane came in with the stray namesake of the polygamous saint about this time shouting:—­“I’ve got him—­No Indians.”  The ox had got into the wash ravine below camp and passed out of sight behind, in a short time.  He had been as easily tracked as if he walked in snow.  There was larger sage brush in the wash than elsewhere, and no doubt Brigham had thought this a good place to seek for some extra blades of grass.

Immediately south of this camp now known as Providence Springs, is the salt lake to which Rogers and I went on the first trip and were so sadly disappointed in finding the water unfit to use.

As soon as ready we started up the canon, following the trail made by the Jayhawkers who had proceeded us, and by night had reached the summit, but passed beyond, a short distance down the western slope, where we camped in a valley that gave us good large sage brush for our fires, and quite a range for the oxen without their getting out of sight.  This being at quite a high elevation we could see the foot as well as the top, of the great snow mountain, and had a general good view of the country.

This proved to be the easiest day’s march we had experienced, and the women complained less than on any other night since our departure.  Their path had been comparatively smooth, and with the new moccasins their feet had been well protected, they had come through pretty nicely.  We told them they looked better, and if they would only keep up good courage they would succeed and come out all right to the land where there was plenty of bread and water, and when safely out, they might make good resolutions never to get in such a trap again.  Mrs. Bennett said such a trip could never be done over again, and but for the fact that Rogers and I had been over the road, and that she believed all we had said about it; she never would have had the courage to come thus far.  Now, for the children’s sake, she wished to live, and would put forth any effort to come through all right.

The next day we had a long canon to go down, and in it passed the dead body of the beautiful white mare Rogers had taken such a fancy to.  The body had not decomposed, nor had it been disturbed by any bird or beast.  Below this point the bed of the canon was filled with great boulders, over which it was very difficult to get the oxen along.  Some of them had lost their moccasins and had to suffer terribly over the rocks.