There was now before us a particularly bad stretch of the country as it
would probably take us four or five days to get over it, and there was
only one water hole in the entire distance. This one was quite salt, so
much so that on our return trip the horses refused to drink it, and the
little white one died next day. Only water for one day's camp could be
carried with us, and that was for ourselves alone and not for the
animals.
When the moccasins were finished in the morning we began to get our
cattle together when it was discovered that Old Brigham was gone, and
the general belief was that the Indians had made a quiet raid on us and
got away with the old fellow. We circled around till we found his track
and then Arcane followed it while we made ready the others. Arcane came
in with the stray namesake of the polygamous saint about this time
shouting:--"I've got him--No Indians." The ox had got into the wash
ravine below camp and passed out of sight behind, in a short time. He
had been as easily tracked as if he walked in snow. There was larger
sage brush in the wash than elsewhere, and no doubt Brigham had thought
this a good place to seek for some extra blades of grass.
Immediately south of this camp now known as Providence Springs, is the
salt lake to which Rogers and I went on the first trip and were so sadly
disappointed in finding the water unfit to use.
As soon as ready we started up the canon, following the trail made by
the Jayhawkers who had proceeded us, and by night had reached the
summit, but passed beyond, a short distance down the western slope,
where we camped in a valley that gave us good large sage brush for our
fires, and quite a range for the oxen without their getting out of
sight.
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