By the first of March forty persons had gathered at the Redwoods, 40 miles south of San Francisco, prepared to go to Utah. We organized a company by appointing Eli Whipple, captain; Sextus E. Johnson, sergeant of the guard; John R. Young, chaplain; and Elemuel Sawtell, clerk.
Brother Whipple furnished the provisions, and hauled the blankets for the returning elders, thirteen in number; and with hearts full of hope and joy we started out for a walk of thirteen hundred miles. Before setting out, Joseph A. Kelting and I went to San Francisco and purchased thirty-five rifles and one hundred pounds of powder.
At the start grass was short, and teams were heavily loaded, so we traveled slowly. By the middle of April, it was evident that our provisions would not last us through. Our meat was nearly gone, and I began to urge the brethren to lie over a day and hunt. However, as we saw but little game, and killed none, there was no spirit for hunting.
On the 20th of April we camped at Elizabeth's Lake. After evening camp prayers, I talked and prophesied that if we would lie over, and go out to hunt, we should kill all the meat we should want. The company consented; and the next morning at daybreak thirteen of us started out. I was the odd man, and went alone.
I had walked about a mile when I saw nine deer standing across a hollow. I fired and killed a large buck. That commenced the ball. William King killed three without moving out of his tracks. By noon we had in all, twenty-two deer. We lay by and jerked the meat. Needless to say, we had plenty to last us the rest of the journey.
At Stony Creek, Mr. Cooper and party from New York, overtook us. My services were secured to pilot them to Salt Lake City. So bidding goodbye to my fellow missionaries, who were very dear to me, and to the Saints that composed our little company, I mounted a mule and struck the trail for home.
On the Mohave, having struck the Mormon road leading from Salt Lake to San Bernardino, we saw Indian signs. The redskins approached our camp at night, but kept out of sight in the day time. That looked unfriendly. At the lower crossing of the Mohave we picketed our animals close around our wagon.
At three o'clock in the morning, they stampeded, and all got away but one. I mounted bareback, without stopping to dress, and soon overtook the frightened animals, and making a wide circuit, brought them safely to camp.
At the Vegas Springs T met for the first time, that renowned Indian peacemaker, Jacob Hamblin, and learned from him the history of the Mountain Meadows Massacre. He said the Indians were still hostile, and thirsting for more blood. On the Muddy, a small stream of that region, we found living in a wagon-bed, turned bottom-side up for a shield from heat and sand, Ira Hatch and Thales Haskell, strong men, giving the better part of their lives to missionary work among the Indians—a labor that brought them neither pleasure nor wealth.
Taking their advice, we rested a day, purposing to make rapid drives from there to the settlements. On the 13th of May we nooned at the Beaver Dams, rested until night, then drove to the Clara Mountains, made a dry camp, kindling no fire. In the morning we drove to the Cane Spring for breakfast.