We traveled on in this way, eating the same kind of meat, only broiled at times for a change (which was far preferable) instead of being boiled. You may ask if the meat and the dish or bowl we ate from were clean.
I thought not, for the meat, the bowl and kettle were carried in dirty, greasy sacks. In fact, all the eatables and cooking utensils were in these sacks, packed upon the backs of horses, when traveling, and when in camp, thrown around a dirty and dusty lodge.
I scarcely ever saw a piece of meat, a kettle or a bowl washed by them while I was with them.
At first we partook of our meals with but little relish, but after a week's travel, we found our appetites improved.
Up to this time we traveled near the Running Water River, without seeing any buffalo, or game of any kind. Here our young brethren became perfectly discouraged, not finding game nor immediate prospects for any, and they concluded to leave.
We were then about fifty miles from our camp. I was asked to accompany them, but declined, feeling that I had not accomplished my mission.
This far we had crossed a number of small, clear streams, from three to seven feet wide, and often three feet deep. In crossing these I found the water gave relief to my sore and painful legs, and, as often as I could, I bathed the sores and found relief. Three of the sores had entirely healed, and for this I thanked the Lord.
We parted here with our young brethren, wishing them a pleasant journey, while we marched on and camped again near the same stream.
Soon after we had partaken of our evening meal, two Indians came riding into camp, bringing good news, that buffaloes were a few miles west of us.
This filled the Indians with joy, so much so that bonfires were built outside the lodges to give light, so that the young folks could dance, and the old men might smoke and talk over things of the past.