Transcript for Franklin W. Young autobiography, circa 1915-1917

The steward of the ship offered me the position cheif cook with a salary of $75.00 per month if I would go back with them, but I was going home to my mother. You will remember reading of the army that came to Utah in 1857, and were wintering out in the mountains east of Salt Lake. That fact made me anxious to get home. On my arrival at San Francisco, I learned that several of the Elders from the Islands were at Whipples Saw Mill, about 35 miles So. of San Francisco, and I went there and joined them. They were sp[l]itting posts and rails. The Saw mill had burned down some time before, and Elder Eli Whipple, the owner, was in very close circumstances in consequence, but he was generously making a home for the elders returning from the Islands, and was planning employment for them until spring should open when he and his family, and three or four other families would join and all go to Utah together. Bro. Whipple's family consisted of an invalid wife and three young daughters, and they were not able to do the cooking for so many men, hence one of the elders was cook, when I arrived in their midst, but he did not like the job, and it was turned over to me. The men had to be off to their work before it was fairly daylight, hence I had to get up at 4 o' clock in the morning, and rustle until 8 or 9 in the evening, making long days. It was arranged that bro. Whipple would furnish the provisions, and haul them ("the grub") and our blankets, and we were to walk, and help attend the teams, and do camp duty. [blank space] and pay him what we might agree upon when we arrive in Utah.

Of the returning elders, I recall to mind the following. viz.—Wm. W. Cluff, Wm. King, Sextus [Sixtus] E. Johnson, John A. West, Smith B. Thurston, John R. Young, Franklin W. Young, Eli Bell and George Speirs. Besides these who were to walk, were John Binley, & Thomas Kallahan two "Mormon Battalion boys," coming to Utah, also one John Kelley. There were three brothers, Jerod, Theodore and __________ Lutzen who had a team and a nice Spring wagon. Joseph Kelton or Shelton, and wife, bro — Bradford, wife and one or two children with a four horse team, and with them Edward Warren, who had two horses, and two saddles. Bro. Eli Whipple and family, with Dr. Sawtell, and "Nelse" Bebee as teamsters, and two four horse and one two horse teams, and with them was a young woman of the name of "Addie" Hogle. These are all I can now recall to my mind. And Eli Whipple was chosen captain of the company.

Just before starting on our journey my brother John R. and I arranged to pay a visit to Hon. John M. Horner at his home on the east side of the bay. Accordingly we got an early start and walked about 10 miles before day light, and kept on, going around the bay, through the town of Alviso, and other towns; a long – long days walk, arriving at bro. Horners about sundown. We found him at home, and he seemed very pleased with our visit, and well he might be, after so long a walk. The next morning I was not able to put my boots on, because my feet were so badly frozen <swolen>. My boots were stiff & too heavy to walk in anyway. Bro. Horner took us in his buggy to Oakland and paid 50 cts. each for our fare across on the Ferry boat to San Francisco, and we bade good bye to bro. Horner.

By previous appointment some of the Elders met us in San Francisco. This bro. Bradford mentioned before had a little money and he loaned several of the Elders small sums. I borrowed $15.00 with which I bought a rifle, a can (12½ lbs) of gun powder and a dozen boxes of gun caps, expecting to get lead, if need be, in Utah, with all of which to help defend my people if it came to that. Several others of the Elders bought guns, powder, etc.

From San Francisco to the red woods, and our camp at Whipple's Mill we walked, and I carried my gun and my boots. I having gotten me a pair of lighter shoes.

Finally all were ready for a start, and the little company pulled out for it's long, and tiresome journey of nearly a thousand miles over mountains, plain, and sandy desert. I remember well that so far as I was concerned I felt to rejoice, and started off with a light heart, and a quick step. A little circumstance happened the first forenoon, that in my boyish whims tended to make my heart stronger. You may laugh at the idea, but to me it really served to fill me with assurance, almost as if already realized. It was simply the finding of a nice bright horseshoe, which I carried in my hand for an hour or two, until the team stopped, and I had an opportunity of putting the shoe in the wagon, making a prediction as I did so, "This indicates good luck, I shall stand the trip as well as any of you <one.">

The second day, or may be the third, we traveled on for a long way without water, and I got quite thirsty, and after a while we came in sight of a house, when my spirits revived with the hope of getting water when we came to the house, but what was my surprise when, on arrival, I saw in big letters on a sign over the well, Water Costs money here. Well now I had no money, and would have to do without water yet for an other long walk, but some arrangement was made by which the teams got water, and the men drank also. I was thankful for a drink.

John Kelley, before mentioned, came to the saw mill, and introduced himself as a convert to "Mormonism," and asked for baptism, but in order to prevent any excitement it was deemed best to wait until we got off on the road. Well, one day we camped on the banks of a creek, away from any habitation, and he wanted the ordinance attended to, and in the Morning, my brother John R. went down into the water, and baptized Mr. Kelley, and he was confirmed right there.

A day or two later we were told that we were about to enter on to the Toolare [Tulare] (if that is the way to spell it) plains and that we would see very little more of "California." It had been talked over before we left the "Red Woods," that on the extensive plains were lots of wild hogs, and that we need not buy supplies of meat, but rather kill wild hogs for all we should need.

Emerging one morning from a series of foothills we passed a ranch about noon, and after bating, pulled out for the great plains spread out before us.

After traveling on for a few miles bro. E. Warren, who, as I said had two horses with saddles, asked me, and an other, whose name I do not remember, to ride a while. We got on the horses and rode along, just ahead of the wagons, when for some cause the teams stopped for a few minutes, which braught my friend and me, on the horses about a half mile ahead, when we discovered about 8 or 10 hogs just ahead.

We were several miles from the ranch, last passed, out on the great plains. We had planned to kill wild hogs when we got there, and I said to my friend, "There is a herd of hogs for us, let us round them in, so the men can shoot them." But he did not seem to care for the chase, and I rode after them. As soon as they saw me they snorted and ran for a deep ravine, where there seemed to be a spring and a creek. The little mare I was riding was a daisy, and soon I was between the hogs and the creek, turning them so as to drive them near the passing train, then turning them back passing the train again, and calling out to the men to shoot them—but never a man aimed a shot at them. Then I determined to shoot one with my revolver, my first shot went wild—my second—and third—and fourth took effect in the largest hog, that perhaps would weigh a hundred and twenty five lbs. or more—but when I was about to jump off my horse and catch my wounded hog by the leg, my friend on the other horse rode up to me and said "Hold on, the Captain says if you kill one of those hogs you shall not bring it into camp." I was thunder dumfounded—would not have been more surprised if a thunderbolt had struck me from a clear sky—I let the nearly dead hog, and all the living ones go, and I went slowly back to the road—dismounted from the, now, dripping little roan, and awaited the coming train. The first salutation was from the Captain, who said rather sharply, "Do you want us all arrested, and taken back to California for stealing hogs?" My answer was "No Sir. The Lord has put a herd of hogs in our reach, and ye would not have them." By this time bro. Warren came up with fire in his eyes, and took the bridle rein out of my hand, never again to be put in it. They all condem[n]ed me, and my brother gave me an awful good scolding. All the rest of that day I had a fallen countenance, but my conscience was clear, for I intended it for good. We drove on a few miles, and turned off the road about a quarter of a mile to some springs—to a regular camping place, and pitched camp early. Presently some teams—freighters, were seen coming from the way we were going, and some of the "boys" ran down to the road to meet them, & enquire about the watering places, and where we were to look for wild hogs, and were told any where here. Mentioning that some miles back we had seen some, they said they were wild, why didn't you shoot them? Then some of the company began to think that perhaps I was right after all. The freighters told the "boys" we had better camp at the next watering place, and hunt hogs about the shores of the lake, not far away, if we wanted to kill any hogs, as that was the best place along the road.

The next day we did not move camp, and I will tell you as well as I can why. It was understood that whoever happened to be on guard in the last shift, that at daylight he was to pull up the stakes, and picket-pins, and turn he horses loose, so they could better feed. On this occation as soon as they were loose, bro. Bradfords two old mares started off and his other two younger mares, and bro. Warrens two followed them. At first the guard ran after them, but soon concluded he could not head them about on foot and ran to the tent where Warren was sleeping and called him. He got up and hurriedly dressing ran out and put a saddle on an other horse and rode after them.

We were camped, as I said off the main road, on the south, and the horses had gone north, but in early twilight, and in a dark rainy morning they were out of sight, but they were easily tracked, and bro. Warren went as hard as he could ride on their tracks, and noticed they had crossed the wagon road, and were on the north side of it. Following on on their tracks he soon came in sight of them, going at a rapid rate. He gave chase; the horses circled to the east, and thence south the persuer cutting across the circle, now in hot persuit did not notice that he crossed the road again, and this time going south. The runaways kept on circling, and when at last overtaken on a grassy place, a mile or more right south from Camp, bro. Warren caught them, by the long ropes they were dragging, Saddled one of them, and tied the six together; mounted the fresh horse, and started for camp; Supposing he was on the north side of the road, he started right south, in the exact opposite direction, and from camp. After breakfast several of the men went out on his tracks, and about noon came to camp expecting to find Warren there, they having seen his foot-prints where he had overtaken the horses, but as it was on a grassy, soddy place the tracks were not easily followed, hence no one knew or had any idea where he was. Captain Whipple sent out all that could be mounted, bare-backed, or on quilts, two by two in search of bro. Warren, whom we all knew was lost on the great plain. I was sent with Smith B. Thurston, and to go to the wagon road and thence west, on our back track a few miles, and thence bare to the South. We all carried a canteen of water and a lunch for him, with definite instructions to watch the mountains peaks, at a distance, and keep carefully our bearings.

Brother Thurston and I were the lucky ones, and found the lost one about 10 miles from camp, South west. He was completely lost, and had been riding all day in search of camp and suffering for water especially, which we gave him as well as food, and took him to camp.

When we came to talk with bro. Bradford it was told us that his two old gray mares had been caught wild on these very plains, and evidently, they recognized their old range, and had made a brake for liberty.

I have refered to this Great Plain, but I must tell you it is not smooth, but rather consists of little swales with ridges perhaps 20 or 30 ft. high, (rolling) and any man taken blindfolded a quarter of a mile from the road, or out of sight of camp, and he could form no idea of where he was, or which way to go. And yet so great was this plain that we traveled ten days in sight of one <high> mountain peak in passing it. Deliver me kind Providence from ever – residing on a great plain.

At our next camping place it was agreed that we would lay over and hunt hogs. In arranging as to the two and twos, who were to go together, when they came to my name, I told them I had had my hog hunt; and I would stay and herd the horses. They went, mostly on foot, a few on horse back, starting off early in the morning, but it was away late in the night before all were back to camp, but never a hog did they see. They heard lots of them snort and run in the rushes. We moved on for some days with out any fresh meat. One day as we were going along, with my gun I went off to the right hand side of the road nearly a mile, and traveled along parallel with the road.

Keeping in sight mostly, of the train. When, as I was going along, I saw a lone horse coming towards me. I sat down in the sage brush and it came up close to me; All the time it was looking at the moving train. It was evidently a horse that had got away from it's owner, as it had saddle marks. I could easily have shot him, "creased" him, as they say, but I had nothing with me to tie him, if I even had him in my power, to tie. When I stood up, and the horse saw me, with a fearful snort he bounded away. Presently, looking across the road, a little behind the train, I saw some objects moving, and I decided to go and investigate. On getting closer it proved to be three elk in sight, and I was crawling on to them, and when nearly within gunshot they moved off. All this time they had stood facing the moving train, now in the distance, but when they moved off into a swale, and soon out of sight for a moment. Emerging again in sight, there were 4 of them. On turning my face toward the train I saw about 80 rods away, one of our men, with one of bro. Warren's horses. He had seen the elk, and was trying to approach to them, by moving the horse in front of him. He had, unwitingly scared my game, else I probably would have killed one of those elk. I did not overtake the train that day until the camp was struck. That night, after supper, the captain called the camp together, and said he wanted to confess he, and said he felt, the whole company had made a mistake, and had done wrong by one of our brethren.

He said he was now convinced he had erred in not accepting of a herd of wild hogs, driven into our camp and that he and others had wronged the person who drove <them> in, and had said many unkind things to him, "and," said he "I beg his pardon, and humbly ask his forgiveness." Others expressed themselves in a similar manner, my brother among them, and I forgave them all. And a very good spirit posessed our camp. Then the Captain proceeded to organize the company for hunting, by appointing John Binly Captain of the hunters, to direct our efforts in hunting. Then we engaged in the evening camp prayer, Capt. Whipple leading. He confessed to the Lord that we had erred, and begged to be forgiven, as we had forgiven each other. And prayed the Lord to help us get some wild game for food; and all went to their beds, except the guards. The next morning at daylight the guard went to the bed of John Binly, and told him there was and animal of some kind over there. Mr. Binly said he would go alone, and if we say a smoke his way, come with the light wagon. Sure enough in about an hour, we saw a smoke—the light wagon was soon on the way, towards the smoke, and presently returned with a fine fat elk of about 400 lbs. weight. Thus was the contrite, humble prayer answered. Wild game was plentiful, but we had not asked the Great Keeper for it, acceptably before.

Some days, as we traveled along, we could see, as it were, a lake a few miles ahead of us, but as we went on it would seem to move from us, so that we never came to it, and we could see even the reflection of our camp fires at night. I remember one night in particular, we saw the same number of fires as were ablaze in our camp, and I thought sure there was an other train, just down the road and was almost tempted to ask some of the boys to come with me to visit them, but the next morning their wagons nor animals were anywhere to be seen, and we saw no track, or signs of them. It was a genuine illusion, the same with the lake, that we were sure we saw, when in fact there was no lake there.

I have forgotten to mention a circumstance, in its order, that happened, I think at our next camping place, after our hog hunting stay over. It happened that John Kelley, the man recently baptized had a midnight Shift on guard. Some one had loaned him a revolver, and in order to keep the time Capt. Whipple had loaned him his watch. Well next morning we were not called early as usual, were not called at all, in fact, but on awakening and "turning out," the guard was missing, and on enquiry it was discovered that Kelley had taken bro. Warren's best horse and saddle, bridle, and blankets—a good supply of bread & meat, as also the revolver, and the Captains watch, and gone we knew not where. We were camped on the east side, and about 40 rods from the road. Tracking the horse Kelley rode away, he went south some half mile before going to the road, thence he followed the road to the south a couple of miles, when coming to a grassy place, he turned to the west, thence north, keeping about 100 rods from the road, passed the camp and when a mile or two north of the camp had dropped into the road, taking our back track. After learning these facts it was agreed to rest quietly until night, and then for Warren accompanied by Elder Smith B. Thurston to follow on his track, which they did, and after following him two days, and nights, they overtook him, at the first Hotel they came to, and getting the Hotel Keeper's aid captured him in his bed. The Hotel Keeper urged them to take him out & hang him to a tree, but they said it might bring them into trouble, and it were better, they said, for them to take him back with them a few miles, and in some lone place leave him, implying the idea of shooting him, instead of hanging. The next morning taking Kelley with them, they retraced their steps, and when a few miles out, one said to the other "here is a good place to carry out our plans," whereupon Kelley turned as pale as death, expecting to be shot, but they told him they were going to let him go, where he had a good chance to avoid the Hotel people, and still find his way back to the settlements in California. They even divided their provisions with him, and gave him a half dollar, being short of money themselves. Kelley wept like a child. Said he ran away from the Camp because the girls were not <kind> and sociable with him. That he would now return to California, but the very first opportunity would go to Salt Lake yet.

Now to resume our journey, and pass the little military post in the heart of a great mountain, known as the Tuhoone [Tejon] fort, but spelled in some spanish way. We pass it without question, or hindrance, even if some of our folks were afraid our wagons would be searched, and finding so much powder, and gun caps, we should be made prisoners. Over the Summit of the pass a few miles, I went into a little cabbin to get a drink of water, when I got in conversation with an old trapper, the only occupant. and among other things he told me about the road, he said if we wanted to kill some deer, our only chance was on the mountain to our right. Just ahead we would pass through a little "Narrows," coming out of which, to our right about a mile from the road, we would see a "green place. There is a spring of water, and there you can camp, and get some deer, on the high mountain close by. If you go on" said he, "the next water is 12 or 15 miles away, and it is a dirty creek in the desert." The train had passed the shanty, and I had to run to overtake it before it got thru the narrows spoken of.

The Captain, and several of those I reported to, were loath to camp so early in the afternoon, but he sent a man ahead on a horse, up to the green place to investigate. The train stopped to wait the return of the horseman, who said, when he got back, "O, yes there is a little seap of water there, but not enough for all these horses." And it was proposed to move on; when I protested against it. I told <them> this was our last chance to get any game, and if we went on without it we would suffer

Finally the Captain told me to go to the Spring and examine it, and if, in my judgement, it would supply us with water they would drive up there. As a signal I was to go on to a certain point of the hill and swing my hat, and away I went. mostly on the run—there was no horse for me to ride.

Well I swung my hat, and the train pulled up there and pitched camp, in the midst of good grass, and lots of wood. The Spring needed cleaning out and there was not a spade or shovel in the train; so we got <an> ax and a frying pan or two, and with a couple of the young men to help me, we began digging in the spring, but present<ly> found there was the remains of a cow brute in the spring. Of course all turned up their noses, and regretted our being there, but I renewed my efforts, and after a long, hard and filthy job got a large place excavated, and the carrion all out, & the place well baled out, we left it to fill up. We had to water the horses in pails, and they were not all satisfied before 10 o'clock at night, but next morning there was plenty of good water.

During the evening Capt. Binley arranged for the deer hunt next day to begin early in the morning, leaving two or three men in camp with the women folks, and to look after the horses. We were to go two by two. I was to go with Capt. Whipple, skirting the foot hills, through the pinion pines and cedars. We went, but our Captain with his boy companion returned to camp about 1 p,m with no deer.

However there was good news from the mountain, as the "boys" up that way had killed 5 or 6 deer, and had come to camp for horses to pack them in on.

After dinner I took my gun and went alone up the mountain, a little to one side from where any of the "boys" were hunting, and in about two hours time I returned to camp, with a fine fat doe. That night we had eight deer in camp, and got an other next day, laying over two or three days in this place—this exelent place, to hunt, dry the meat, and withal rest up the teams.

Resuming our journey, a good half days travel brought us to the little creek, the old trapper had told me of. It was six or eight ft. wide, and from 1 to 3 in. deep; warm and roily, and no feed in the vicinity. That night we reached a Springy place, with some grass. Here we were overtaken, by a little company of men on their way from San Francisco to Salt Lake. They were going to try and sell to Brigham Young a large tract of land in Central America, for a new home for the "Mormons." These men wanted a man from our party to go through with them, as a sort of guide, and my brother John R. went on with them, being furnished a horse and saddle to ride. It was a good thing for John R. but the parties did not find Prest. Young in any humor to buy land in Central America. Not many days more, until we came to the Utah—San Barnardino road, on the Mahava, [Mojave] and fell in with some freighters. I remember Ed, Hope, and Calvin Reed, and Jacob Hamblins Indian boy Albert, with whom we crossed the deserts. Our first all night travel was from the Mahava to the Bitter Springs.

One of the Elders got so weary he would go to sleep as he walked along, and stubbing his foot against any little thing would fall over, and lie there asleep until aroused by some of the "boys," and for miles we had to have a man on each side of him to support and guide him. It was a long dreary night, and we reached the Bitter Springs about sunrise. Here we had to watch the animals very carefully, lest they drink of the poison water. About 3 p.m. we started on again, and traveled on until just before day, when we tied up the teams, and all laid down to sleep, except two men detailed to watch the camp, and prevent a surprise by Indians. At daylight all were called, and a hurried breakfast taken, when the train moved on. It was said by our freighting friends, that it was 20 miles to the Salt Springs, the water of which looks as if about 1/10 milk. A little Alum in the water was said to be good to settle it. I took a lump of alum in my pocket and a tin cup in my belt, and with my gun started slowly on the road, supposing all were ready, and would be coming right along, but after starting the train stopped a time or two, just for a minute, but I gradually got farther ahead. Thus I kept on until about 10 a.m. when I concluded to wait for the train, and laid down, behind the largest bush I could see, and fell asleep, but soon awoke, suffering from the heat. I got up so as to get a breath above the hot sand and presently two of the Elders came <up> us as fast as they could walk, and said to me "come on, lets hurry on to the Spring." No said I, "I must wait and get a drink of water." "There is not a drop of water in the train," they said.

There was no other way, only to hurry on <to> the spring, as they proposed, but I declare to you it was seemed a long tedious walk. However we arrived there about 1 p.m. and found the alum of great benifit in making the water fit to drink. In about an hour after we got there, bro. Bradford came in on one of Warren's horses. He was so thi[r]sty his tongue stuck out of his mouth, and it was with difficulty he could speak. I had a cup of water settled for him, and served him again, and again, he was nearly famished. He had left his team for bro. Warren to drive, and had hurried on, and just in time to save his life, and yet he had drinked about two gals. of water that day, and had rode all the way, while I walked all the way, and had not a drop of any thing to drink. Surely the Lord helped me.

This was not a good camping place, and the road, for the next few miles was very sandy and heavy, hence we were all called at 4. in the morning, and got an early start. The road was so heavy that our two 4 horse teams had to be helped to start the wagons, by us men rolling on the wheeles, then we would step back and help the other teams. Thus we helped the teams for several miles. But what was our surprise to come to a beautiful, grassy place and to find a spring of good, cold water. O, what a blessing.

Here Jacob Hamblin and Andrew Gibbons met us, and let us have a couple of sacks of wheat

Jacob Hamblin's Indian boy, Albert, was with the freighters Hope and Reed, in our company.

As we traveled along, and when within some 15 or 20 miles of Los Vagus [Las Vegas] Spring, we met a 4 mule team and two men, namely, Wm. S. Godbe, and "Will" Lewis. The former from Salt Lake, and sent by Prest. Brigham Young in a hurry to meet the mail from San Barnardino [Bernardino] with a trunk for Col. Thomas L. Kane; with instructions to travel day and night until he got back to Salt Lake with that trunk.

At Parawan [Parowan], Mr. Lewis had gone on with Mr. Godbe for company, and assistance. Mr. G. had a letter from Prest. Young asking the bishops, and all whom it might concern to render Mr. Godbe any aid that he might require, and in their power. This letter he read to our company, and asked for the exchange of a light rig for the 3¼ wagon he had. I was the only one in the company that knew any thing of Mr. Godbe, and I recomended him as a business man of Salt Lake; and perfectly reliable, and trustworthy. Whereupon the Letzen brothers let him have their spring wagon, and they took his lumber wagon, without bows or cover—a wagon and team furnished him by Bp. Crosby and Saints at Pinto Creek, and recently from San Barnardino. At Los Vagus, we found a few Indians, and Jacob Hamblin sent two young bucks out with our horses and to herd them thru the night.

When they brought them in to camp the next morning, a little mare belonging to Mr. Reed, one of the freighters, was sick, and kept laying down. It was with difficulty that she was taken along with us the train for a few miles, when she laid down and died. Mr. Reed cut her open, and discovered that the Indians had run a sharp stick up her, and cut her small intestines full of holes. Their object, of course, was to have the animal die, so they could have the flesh to eat. Mr. Reed was so provoked by their conduct treacherous cruelty that he cut the flesh open and filled it with sand and dirt.

Sixty miles between watering places, and on a parched desert is a long drive, and walk, but we made it nicely in one night and the best part of two days.

At the Muddy (creek) our supply of flour became so very short we quit making bread, and used the flour only to thicken dried venison gravy, to eat with our boiled wheat..

When we reached the Mountain Meadows, it was thought we were out of the Indian's country, and were safe without standing guard. While quietly sleeping that night toward morning, I was awakened by some one calling out my name. As soon as I was able I answered, when the voice of Wm. S. Godbe said to me, "Do you want a ride home to Salt Lake?" My answer was "yes, you bet I do." "Then jump in here, right quick," he said, which I did, and[.] They, Godbe & Lewis, had driven the same four mules to San Burnardino—got Col. Kanes trunk and back to Pinto 375 miles and back in 10 days. Thus making 75 miles per day! A most wonderful quick trip.

We arrived at the camp on Pinto creek a little before daylight, and Mr. Godbe wanted the acting bishop, Crosby, to rustle a fresh team, and send him on immediately but the bishop persuded him to lie down and rest for an hour, and it was 9 o'clock before we got started from Pinto with a fresh team and driver, and Letzens spring wagon. On our arrival at Cedar City, we learned the bishop, and many others from Cedar had gone to Parawan [Parowan] to attend Stake Conference, and by dint of hard coaxing Mr. Godbe got the driver to take us on to Parawan. On our arrival at the last named town we learned the bishop and many others, had gone to Red Creek (now Paragoona [Paragonah]) to attend an evening meeting. But it happened that we met one David Savage, who was just then starting for Red Creek, with a good mule team and empty wagon, and leaving Mr. Lewis at his home, Mr. Godbe and I and the trunk piled into Mr. Savages wagon, and away we went. There was still an other man riding. He and I occupied the hind seat. When a little way out of town we heard some one speak, and on looking around there was an Indian hanging on to the hind end of the wagon. He wanted to ride but my friend on the seat with me said no. But the red man kept hold of the wagon, until we came near the corner of the field, where the road turned to the left, and a trail led on straight ahead, then the Indian let go of the wagon and ran past the team, seeing this we cheered and Mr. Savage whipped his mules into a good round gallop, when the Indian shot ahead as if the mules were not in the race at all. It was the most wonderful speed I had ever witnessed for a man to make, and that too after running three or four miles.

At Red Creek they gave us a good supper, and while we were eating it, a man came with a good team and light rig—putting in the trunk, Mr. Godbe and I jumped in and long before daylight we called bishop Farnsworth of Beaver out of bed, and Mr. Godbe called for the relay of teams, the good bishop said the best he could do would be to let us have a pair of church mules there was in the public horse herd, which was in the public carol [corral], where all the loose horses and mules were kept every night, and guarded to keep the Indians from stealing them. He said these mules were not well matched, one slow, while the other was a firely little fellow. But how are we to catch them? he said. I had noticed that Mr. Godbe had beside the trunk a small "Grub box," a bearskin, and a long rope. I told the bishop to point out his mules and I would lasso them. When we got into the large public carol the bishop said, "Now there is a wild mule in the band just as near like the little mule we want as can be. I think this is the one we want.["] I dropped the rope over its head, and lo, it was the wild one, and we had to choke it down before we could get the rope off. Then I tried again—this time you understand was in the darkness of night, but luckily I got the right mule, and at break of day we pulled out Mr. Godbe and I; with a light rig, and two mules, just as unlike as could be. The one we had to whip—pound—mall, and punch. While we put the long rope in the other mule's mouth, and one of us held him back. Not so very long after the sun got above the high mountain to the east of our road, we came to Pine Creek, which had about an inch of ice on its surface, even if it was the last day of May. It was not a large creek, but the crossing was cut out till it was about 30 ft. wide, and belly deep to the mules. When we got in the middle of the crossing the mules refused to break the ice any further. And there we were, unable to go on and equally unable to go back. Therefore I took off my pants and waded in. Why I did not break the ice for the team and go on thru, I can not tell you now, but instead I unhooked the team and drove them, and fastened to them to the hind end of the little wagon, and giving the lines to Mr. Godbe, I took hold of the wagon tongue in water up to my middle, as cold as ice, and guided the wagon as the team pulled it back out. We then succeeded in crossing at an other place. Just before we got to Cove Creek we overtook a man with a horse team, and as we were having such a hard time getting the Slow mule to go along, Mr. Goodbe jumped into the strangers wagon– read to him the letter he had from Prest. Young, and urged him to exchange teams with us. Stopping at Cove Creek, the stranger let us have one of his horses, and he took the slow mule. This was a good exchange for us, but when we <a> little way ahead, our friend called out lustily to us, but we pretended not to hear him, and Mr. G. fearing he wanted his horse back said he must not trade back now; we kept on at a good rate, while our friend stood up in his wagon, and with a heavy black whip urged the slow mule on, and gave us a hot chase for a mile or two. In our hot haste, and while going down a steep hill on a "dugway," and having no brake to the wagon, our little frisky mule refused to hold back and in holding him to it, he stopped and turned himself under the front end of the wagon tongue, and under his end of the neck yoke, and stood facing us. We jumped out and as quickly as possible unhooked the mule, and got him in gear, right end to, and away we went, just as our persuing friend came over the ridge, not 30 rods behind, but we escaped him.

A little farther on and we met some people with covered wagons, with families—the first of many to be met by us, in the famous "Move." In Mr. Godbe's little "Grub box," was a few crackers, and a box of sardines, and we assayed to eat a lunch, but neither of us had a knife. How were we to get at those Sardines? I happened to have a crooked Sale needle in my pocket, and with it I punched holes in the Sardine box and twisted them out, until I got the box open.

At barn creek Mr. Godbe tried to get a fresh team, but he was told the principal men, with the best teams had all gone to Fillmore to attend Stake Conference, or as it was called then, "Two days meetings." So we drove the same team on to Fillmore. where we were told that all hands, and all the good teams had gone to Cedar Springs (now Holden) to attend a ball, and we had to drive the horse on to the latter place, leaving the little mule at Fillmore. At Cedar Springs they gave us a good supper, and furnished a fresh team, with which we moved on. It was a cold night for the time of year, and as we had only a bear skin to wrap up with, we got quite cold, and for the first time in my life I got the toothache. At the Sevier Bridge we stopped and made a fire, and made tea, and fed the team.

Arrived at Nephi about Sunrise, bishop Bigler gave us a good breakfast, and soon we were on our way again, with bro. _____ Hoyt, with a pair of white mules. We arrived at Payson at 11 a.m. and here I met an acquaintance who told me that my brother William G. who was then bishop of Grantsville was encamped at Spring Lake, with a goodly number of his ward. We had come about 230 miles in 50 hours! Thanking Mr. Godbe most heartily for this long and rapid ride, I bade him good bye, and walked back to my brothers camp, where I found <also> my Father, with his wives Ellen and Hannah. They were in "The Move," and I at home again, this June 1st. 1858.