“You think you are pretty smart,” I said.
“Just as smart as you, Mr. Injun,” he replied; “if you don’t believe it, just get off that buzzard head of a horse and I’ll show you.”
I jumped off and he ran. I got on my horse and started after them, but they scrambled through the fence and ran away through the fields. I went on through the town, and after getting permission from the owner, camped in his field, and I was not bothered with any questions that night.
The next morning I was off pretty early and reached Salt Lake City. I did not stay there, however, but went on through and stopped at the Jordan River bridge for noon. This was a familiar road to me now, for I had been in the city several times before. That afternoon I journeyed on to what we called Black Rock and camped that night at the southern end of Great Salt Lake. I was now within a short day’s ride of home. I could hardly stay there till morning, I was so anxious now to get home.
Just as I was making camp, a team drove up with three people in the wagon. I knew them. They were John Zundel, his sister Julia, and Jane Branden, our nearest neighbors, but they did not know me at first.
I had a fire and was broiling a rabbit I had killed, when Julia came up and tried to get a good look at me, but I kept my face turned from her as much as I could. Finally she got a glimpse of my face and went to the wagon. I heard her say to Jane,
“That is the whitest Indian I ever saw, and he has blue eyes.”
“I’ll bet a dollar it is Nick Wilson,” said Jane.
They came over where I was and Jane said, “Look up here, young man, and let us see you.”
I let them take a look at me.