"Apostle John Taylor traveled in the company that my family was with, Bishop Hunter being captain of the company of one hundred, and Bishop Foutz and my husband being captains of fifties. The officers proposed, for safety in traveling through the Indian country, that the two fifties travel side by side, which was agreed to, Bishop Foutz's fifty taking the north side. For some days the wind blew from the south with considerable force, covering the fifty on the north with dust from our wagons. This continued for two weeks; it was then agreed that the two companies should shift positions in order to give us our fair proportion of the dust; but in a day or two afterwards the wind shifted to the north, thus driving the dust on to the same company as before. After having some good natured badinage over the circumstance, our company changed with the unfortunates and took its share of the dust.
"One day a company of Indians met us and manifested a desire to trade, which we were glad to do; but as the brethren were exchanging corn for buffalo robes, the squaws were quietly stealing everything they could lay hands upon. Many bake-kettles, skillets and frying-pans were missing when we halted that night.
"As our wagons were standing while the trading was going on, one Indian took a great fancy to my little girl, who was sitting on my knee, and wanted to buy her, offering me a pony. I told him 'no trade.' He then brought another pony, and still another, but I told him no; so he brought the fourth, and gave me to understand that they were all good, and that the last one was especially good for chasing buffalo. The situation was becoming decidedly embarrassing, when several more wagons drew near, dispersing the crowd of Indians that had gathered around me, and attracting the attention of my persistent patron."
The emigrant's post-offices are thus spoken of by Sister Eliza:
"Much of the time we were on an untrodden way; but when we came on the track of the pioneers, as we occasionally did, and read the date of their presence, with an 'all well' accompaniment, on a bleached buffalo skull, we had a general time of rejoicing."
For years those bleached buffalo skulls were made the news agents of the Mormon emigrations. The morning newspaper of to-day is not read with so much eagerness as were those dry bones on the plains, telling of family and friends gone before.
It was a long, tedious journey to those pioneer sisters, yet they had pentecosts even on their pilgrimage. Again quoting from Sister Eliza:
"Many were the moon and starlight evenings when, as we circled around the blazing fire, and sang our hymns of devotion, and songs of praise to him who knows the secrets of all hearts, the sound of our united voices reverberated from hill to hill, and echoing through the silent expanse, seemed to fill the vast concave above, while the glory of God seemed to rest on all around. Even now while I write, the remembrance of those sacredly romantic and vivifying scenes calls them up afresh, and arouses a feeling of response that language is inadequate to express."
But there were dark days also. The story changes to sickness in the wagons and death by the wayside:
"Death," says Sister Eliza, "made occasional inroads among us. Nursing the sick in tents and wagons was a laborious service; but the patient faithfulness with which it was performed is, no doubt, registered in the archives above, as an unfading memento of brotherly and sisterly love. The burial of the dead by the wayside was a sad office. For husbands, wives and children to consign the cherished remains of loved ones to a lone, desert grave, was enough to try the firmest heartstrings.