I looked no further for a sleeping place, but started for the wagon.
I had not gone far before I met two brethren, named respectively, Mathews and Foutze. They were somewhat startled at seeing me, and, after the first exclamation of surprise, Brother Mathews said, "Why, Brother S——, is it you? You are like one raised from the dead; for we were informed by the Indians that you were killed before last Christmas."
Both brethren shook me heartily by the hands, and thanked the Lord that I was alive.
Their supper was ready; and here I ate bread for the first time for eighteen weeks. I ate but little else, and soon found that I had taken too much, and I suffered a great deal of pain during the night as a consequence.
After this meal I ate but little bread at a time, until I could digest it without pain.
The next evening we reached the camp or winter quarters of the Saints.
The news of my arrival was soon known, and before I could get out of the wagon I was met by a number of old traveling companions, all of whom gave me a hearty welcome, and such a shaking of the hands as I never had before or since.
A number of my brethren invited me to their houses, but I preferred to go to a log house kept for Indians, until I had thoroughly washed myself and changed my clothes.
At this time I was free from all sores, except a small patch upon my right side.
Thus ended my Indian mission, which (although at times I suffered much) was to me a very interesting part of my life.