DICK IS SOLD. OH, DEAR.
Sunday, August 28.
It was scarcely daylight when that hateful man was here again after Dick. I had just finished dressing when Hillhouse came to the wagon and said:
“Shall I let Dick go?”
“Do as you think best.” And I threw myself on the bed for a good cry. I had not stopped crying when he came back, and throwing a buckskin purse into my lap, said:
“There is your pony.” There was one hundred and twenty-five dollars in gold dust in it. I sobbed out loud. Hillhouse looked at me with contempt in his expression, but said nothing. I could not help crying.
I know he would never sell anything that he loved, and I love that pony. I let the purse roll out of my lap down into the bottom of the wagon, and have not touched it yet. Of course, I knew the wagon-bed was tight, and there is no danger of its being lost. We came to Silver Lake to-day. We are having a fine shower of rain, which we were needing very much. It was some time coming, so we had dinner over and were ready for it when it reached us.
* * * * *
Monday, August 29.
We have traveled to-day over Snake River desert, nothing but sand and sage-brush. We watered at noon at a toll well, called Hole-in-the-sand, and paid ten cents a head for watering stock. I wonder what we will have to pay toll for next?