There was a ferry here to cross the river and go up along north side.  Mr. Dallas bought the whole outfit for a small sum and when we were safely over he took with him such ropes as he wanted and tied the boat to the bank The road on this side was very sandy and led over and among some rolling hills.  In talking with the men of the U.S. troops in whose company we still were, I gathered much information concerning our road further west.  They said we were entirely too late to get through to California, on account of crossing the Sierra Nevada mountains, which, they said would be covered with snow by November, or even earlier, and that we would be compelled to winter at Salt Lake.  Some of the drivers overheard Mr. Dallas telling his family the same thing, and that if he should winter at Salt Lake, he would discharge his drivers as soon as he arrived, as he could not afford to board them all winter.

This was bad news for me, for I had known of the history of them at Nauvoo and in Missouri, and the prospect of being thrown among them with no money to buy bread was a very sorry prospect for me.  From all I could learn we could not get a chance to work, even for our board there, and the other drivers shared my fears and disappointment.  In this dilemma we called a council, and invited the gentleman in to have an understanding.  He came and our spokesman stated the case to him, and our fears, and asked him what he had to say to us about it.  He flew quite angry at us, and talked some and swore a great deal more, and the burden of his speech was:—­“This train belongs to me and I propose to do with it just as I have a mind to, and I don’t care a d—­n what you fellows do or say.  I am not going to board you fellows all winter for nothing, and when we get to Salt Lake you can go where you please, for I shall not want you any longer.”  We talked a little to him and under the circumstances to talk was about all we could do.  He gave us no satisfaction and left us apparently much offended that we had any care for ourselves.

Then we had some talk among ourselves, at the time, and from day to day as we moved along.  We began to think that the only way to get along at all in Salt Lake would be to turn Mormons, and none of us had any belief or desire that way and could not make up our minds to stop our journey and lose so much time, and if we were not very favored travelers our lot might be cast among the sinners for all time.

We were now on the Sweetwater River, and began to see the snow on the Rocky Mountains ahead of us, another reminder that there was a winter coming and only a little more than half our journey was done.  We did not feel very happy over it, and yet we had to laugh once in a while at some of the funny things that would happen.

The Government party we were with had among them a German mule driver who had a deal of trouble with his team, but who had a very little knowledge of the English language.  When the officers tried to instruct him a little he seemed to get out of patience and would say something very like Sacramento.  We did not know exactly what this meant.  We had heard there was a river of that name or something very near like that; and then again some said that was the Dutch for swearing.  If this latter was the truth then he was a very profane mule driver when he got mad.