"The north wind and drifting snow became severe; the air seemed turned to frozen fog, nothing could be seen; we were struggling in a freezing cloud. The lofty wall of Three Crossings was a happy relief; but the guide who had lately passed there was relentless in pronouncing that there was no grass at that point. As he promised grass and shelter two miles further, we marched on, crossing twice more the rocky stream, half-choked with snow and ice; finally he led us behind a great granite rock, but all too small for the promised shelter. Only a part of the regiment could huddle there in the deep snow; whilst the long night through the storm continued, and fearful eddies, above, below and behind, drove the falling and drifting snow. Meanwhile the animals were driven once more across the stream, to the base of the granite ridge, which faced the storm, but where there was grass. They refused to eat; the mules huddled together, moaning piteously, while some of the horses broke from the guard and went back to the ford. The next day, better camping ground was reached ten miles farther on. On the morning of the eighth, the thermometer marked 44 degrees below the freezing point; but in this weather and through deep snow, the men made eighteen miles, and the following day nineteen miles, to the next camping ground on Bitter Creek, on the Sweetwater. On the 10th, matters were still worse. Herders, left to bring up the rear, with the stray mules, could not force them from the valley, and they were left to perish. Nine horses were also abandoned. At night the thermometer marked twenty-five degrees below zero; nearly all the tent pins were broken, and nearly forty soldiers and teamsters were on the sick list, most of them being frost-bitten. The earth has no more lifeless, treeless, grassless desert; it contains scarcely a wolf to glut itself on the hundreds of dead and frozen animals which, for thirty miles, nearly blocked the road."
Such was the condition in which this flower of the American army found itself when about ready, as they supposed, to enter the Valley of the Great Salt Lake and subdue a handful of unoffending and simple-hearted people. Something was certainly done by the small band of hardy men who followed and surrounded the army with harassing circumstances; but they did little compared with the forces which were brought to bear by the God of nature, who undertook to fight this battle according to His own good pleasure and plan.
XII.
THE FRIEND OF BRIGHAM YOUNG
The bright fire upon the wide hearthstone in Aunt Clara's sitting room in Great Salt Lake City seemed all the brighter to the young man who opened the cheerful green door late in the afternoon on the 24th day of February, 1858. The slow moving figure of Aunt Clara swung around from her busy loom in the corner, as she looked to see who her visitor was.
"You, John? I thought you were in Echo Canyon or in San Bernardino, or on the Southern Mexican route."
"So I was till this morning; I have come to see if you will take a stranger for a few days, who is sent to you by Governor Young."
"Anyone sent from President Young is welcome, and John, anyone you bring is welcome also."
John Stevens thanked her and added that he would return shortly with his guest, and then departed as silently and swiftly as he had come.
"Ellen," called Aunt Clara to the girl whose spinning wheel whirred from the kitchen, "bring some more wood for the fire-place, and put the clean white blankets in the front bedroom. Have we enough white flour to make some biscuits?"