Morgan Pioneer History Binds Us Together out to relieve the other two. In the morning, the teamster yoked up his team and by that time breakfast was about over. Then all was ordered to line up for another hot day through the sand and hot sun. One old man about sixty-five or seventy, would take his cane and go all around camp picking up bits of bread and putting it in his pocket. His head was white as snow; this man was a Scotchman. We saw a few buffalo on our way, but our guns were of the old type. They wouldn't kill if they hit. We also saw a few Indians. They took a good look at us and went their way. I guess they thought we looked as bad as they did or worse, and had no use for us. One man had his cart full to the top of junk and children and the load got overbalanced. The tongue flew up, and down went the hind end, children screaming and crawling over each other, mouth and eyes full of sand. The man was an Englishman; he came back to see what was the matter. He had a big laugh, and said, "I 'ave raised 'ell; I ham shure sorry." There was a man appointed to weigh the rations out of the commissary wagons. His name was Fosket. He had no family except his wife. They both had the privilege of riding. One day I was not feeling well and had no appetite. Fruit those days was dried and boxed or sacked. There was no canned fruit whatever. I asked this man to give me a little dried fruit or something for a change; that I was sick and had no appetite. He answered me like he would a dog. I have nothing for you. These things are expressly for sick folks. He pretended to be very religious, nothing but Zion every day. When he got to Zion, he was turned out of the commissary business and had to go to work. He could no longer feed off the church. The last I heard of him was that he had been apostatized and joined the Morrisites. One man by the name of Sharrick had crossed the plains when a small boy with his father going to California. He claimed he remembered all the route and camping places. On those grounds, the church hired him and gave him a pony to ride. He knew about as much as a man that never saw the plains. He was afraid to get Out of our sight. Several times when night came on, we were obliged to camp without water. Wasn't that fine for those poor mothers, after dragging a cart all day. Weak and tired, to hear those poor children all through the camp crying for water and something to eat, and the next morning to find water within a mile or two. One day I wasn't feeling the best; I was about half sick and had the blues very bad. I let loose of my cart and dropped out to one side and let the train go by. I laid down on a little knoll close by, resting my head on my hand and elbow watching those dear little carts away in the distance moving along like sheep, one behind the other. At that time, many thoughts ran through me. Why is it that we left a good country, good homes, and now facing tortures and hardships we are enduring now? I was tired, barefooted, the blood oozing out of my feet. Like many more of the outfit, my feet looked like a blacksmith had been at them with a rasp, caused by alkali wind and sand. A thought struck me like this: If we are to die, why not have the Indians drop on to us, kill us all, and be done with it? At that, I heard a slight noise. Turning my head, about one rod from me, there stood a panther ready to spring on me. His eyes glaring and looked like balls of fire. I gave one scream and like a flash he was out of sight. I believe I scared him worse than he did me. Killing left my mind and I at once took to my heels and after the carts I went, regardless of sore feet. In the distance I saw a man coming, At first I took it to be an Indian. It was my oldest brother. He was quite angry at first at me staying so far behind. I showed him my feet, then he felt quite different. About that time we sighted the Black Hills, another five hundred miles of hard struggle. I looked back leaving those dreaded plains behind us, never to be trod by me again. When we struck Sweetwater, we had all the fish we could take care of. The bottom seemed to be covered with fish. They tasted quite different from the old Salty bacon we had been eating up to that time. When we landed at Green River, all was taken across on a ferry boat, except the oxen. They had to swim. We camped for the night. We expected some provisions by the time we got there, but we failed. We ate a little supper and next morning, we scarcely had anything for breakfast. At the place the road forked. We took the right hand road on the north. Soon an old lady staggered from her cart and fell. She was at once picked up and was put into a wagon. Soon after a man fell from his cart and fainted. He was put in a wagon. We traveled that day about twenty-five miles to a creek. We camped for the night, hardly a bite to eat. Sometime in the night, two teams drove up loaded with flour and bacon, sent from Salt Lake to meet us. They missed us when they took the lower road to the south and got to Green River about sunset. They fed their teams then followed us, and got to our camp sometime in the night. We had one death on the way. It was a small boy, six years old. That was all we lost on the trip. We reached the end of our journey on August 27.1 walked and worked every step of the way, and at the end of the journey, I was ragged, barefooted, dirty and happy.