It is the custom here for as many women as care to to go in a party over into Utah to Ashland (which is over a hundred miles away) after fruit.  They usually go in September, and it takes a week to make the trip.  They take wagons and camp out and of course have a good time, but, the greater part of the way, there isn’t even the semblance of a road and it is merely a semblance anywhere.  They came over to invite me to join them.  I was of two minds—­I wanted to go, but it seemed a little risky and a big chance for discomfort, since we would have to cross the Uinta Mountains, and a snowstorm likely any time.  But I didn’t like to refuse outright, so we left it to Mr. Stewart.  His “Ye’re nae gang” sounded powerful final, so the ladies departed in awed silence and I assumed a martyr-like air and acted like a very much abused woman, although he did only what I wanted him to do.  At last, in sheer desperation he told me the “bairn canna stand the treep,” and that was why he was so determined.  I knew why, of course, but I continued to look abused lest he gets it into his head that he can boss me.  After he had been reduced to the proper plane of humility and had explained and begged my pardon and had told me to consult only my own pleasure about going and coming and using his horses, only not to “expoose” the bairn, why, I forgave him and we were friends once more.

Next day all the men left for the roundup, to be gone a week.  I knew I never could stand myself a whole week.  In a little while the ladies came past on their way to Ashland.  They were all laughing and were so happy that I really began to wish I was one of the number, but they went their way and I kept wanting to go somewhere.  I got reckless and determined to do something real bad.  So I went down to the barn and saddled Robin Adair, placed a pack on “Jeems McGregor,” then Jerrine and I left for a camping-out expedition.

It was nine o’clock when we started and we rode hard until about four, when I turned Robin loose, saddle and all, for I knew he would go home and some one would see him and put him into the pasture.  We had gotten to where we couldn’t ride anyway, so I put Jerrine on the pack and led “Jeems” for about two hours longer; then, as I had come to a good place to camp, we stopped.

While we had at least two good hours of daylight, it gets so cold here in the evening that fire is very necessary.  We had been climbing higher into the mountains all day and had reached a level tableland where the grass was luxuriant and there was plenty of wood and water.  I unpacked “Jeems” and staked him out, built a roaring fire, and made our bed in an angle of a sheer wall of rock where we would be protected against the wind.  Then I put some potatoes into the embers, as Baby and I are both fond of roasted potatoes.  I started to a little spring to get water for my coffee when I saw a couple of jack rabbits playing, so I went back for my little shotgun.  I shot one of the