Arcane all along had an idea that Rogers and I meant to surprise them by leading them to believe the house we had visited was quite a distance off, and then to so manage it that it should appear upon their sight suddenly.  We assured them it would take two or more camps before we could get there, and if Mrs. Bennett did not soon recover, even more than that.  Our camp here was under a great live oak, the ground deep covered with dry leaves, and near by a beautiful meadow where our cattle and mule ate, drank and rested, the oxen chewing their cud with such an air of comfort as had not come to them since leaving their far-off eastern pastures.  They seemed as much pleased as any one.  They would lie down and rest and eat at the same time in perfectly enjoyable laziness.

Here we all rested and washed such clothes as we could do without long enough to dry, and washed our faces and hands over and over again to remove the dirt which had been burned and sweated in so completely as not to come off readily.  We sat on the bank of the brook with our feet dangling in the water, a most refreshing bath, and they too began to look clean again.  We often saw tracks of the grizzly bear about, but in our ignorance had no fear of them, for we did not know they were a dangerous animal.  An owl came and hooted in the night, but that was the only challenge any wild beast or bird gave to our peaceful and restful camp.  We were out of the dreadful sands and shadows of Death Valley, its exhausting phantoms, its salty columns, bitter lakes and wild, dreary sunken desolation.  If the waves of the sea could flow in and cover its barren nakedness, as we now know they might if a few sandy barriers were swept away, it would be indeed, a blessing, for in it there is naught of good, comfort or satisfaction, but ever in the minds of those who braved its heat and sands, a thought of a horrid Charnel house, a corner of the earth so dreary that it requires an exercise of strongest faith to believe that the great Creator ever smiled upon it as a portion of his work and pronounced it “Very good.”  We had crossed the great North American Continent, from a land of plenty, over great barren hills and plains, to another mild and beautiful region, where, though still in winter months, we were basking in the warmth and luxuriance of early summer.  We thought not of the gold we had come to win.  We were dead almost, and now we lived.  We were parched with thirst, and now the brightest of crystal streams invited us to stoop and drink.  We were starved so that we had looked at each other with maniac thoughts, and now we placed in our mouth the very fat of the land.  We had seen our cattle almost perishing; seen them grow gaunt and tottering; seen them slowly plod along with hanging heads and only the supremacy of human will over animal instinct had kept them from lying down never to rise again.  Now they were in pastures of sweet grass, chewing the cud of content and satisfaction.  Life which had been a burden grew sweet to us, and though it may be that our words of praise to Him, whose will was to deliver us out of the jaws of death, were not set nor formal, yet His all-seeing eye saw the truth in our hearts, and saw there the fullest expression of our gratitude and thankfulness.  Who shall say the thanks that arose were less acceptable, because not given on bended knees before gilded altars?