It　was　at　Cedar　City　that　the　Wainwright　baby　died。　　I　remember　Mrs。
  Wainwright　weeping　and　pleading　with　Laban　to　try　to　get　some　cow's
  milk。
  〃It　may　save　the　baby's　life；〃　she　said。　　〃And　they've　got　cow's
  milk。　　I　saw　fresh　cows　with　my　own　eyes。　　Go　on；　please；　Laban。　　It
  won't　hurt　you　to　try。　　They　can　only　refuse。　　But　they　won't。　　Tell
  them　it's　for　a　baby；　a　wee　little　baby。　　Mormon　women　have　mother's
  hearts。　　They　couldn't　refuse　a　cup　of　milk　for　a　wee　little　baby。〃
  And　Laban　tried。　　But；　as　he　told　father　afterward；　he　did　not　get
  to　see　any　Mormon　women。　　He　saw　only　the　Mormon　men；　who　turned　him
  away。
  This　was　the　last　Mormon　outpost。　　Beyond　lay　the　vast　desert；　with；
  on　the　other　side　of　it；　the　dream　land；　ay；　the　myth　land；　of
  California。　　As　our　wagons　rolled　out　of　the　place　in　the　early
  morning　I；　sitting　beside　my　father　on　the　driver's　seat；　saw　Laban
  give　expression　to　his　feelings。　　We　had　gone　perhaps　half　a　mile；
  and　were　topping　a　low　rise　that　would　sink　Cedar　City　from　view；
  when　Laban　turned　his　horse　around；　halted　it；　and　stood　up　in　the
  stirrups。　　Where　he　had　halted　was　a　new…made　grave；　and　I　knew　it
  for　the　Wainwright　baby'snot　the　first　of　our　graves　since　we　had
  crossed　the　Wasatch　mountains。
  He　was　a　weird　figure　of　a　man。　　Aged　and　lean；　long…faced；　hollow…
  checked；　with　matted；　sunburnt　hair　that　fell　below　the　shoulders　of
  his　buckskin　shirt；　his　face　was　distorted　with　hatred　and　helpless
  rage。　　Holding　his　long　rifle　in　his　bridle…hand；　he　shook　his　free
  fist　at　Cedar　City。
  〃God's　curse　on　all　of　you！〃　he　cried　out。　　〃On　your　children；　and
  on　your　babes　unborn。　　May　drought　destroy　your　crops。　　May　you　eat
  sand　seasoned　with　the　venom　of　rattlesnakes。　　May　the　sweet　water
  of　your　springs　turn　to　bitter　alkali。　　May　。　。　。〃
  Here　his　words　became　indistinct　as　our　wagons　rattled　on；　but　his
  heaving　shoulders　and　brandishing　fist　attested　that　he　had　only
  begun　to　lay　the　curse。　　That　he　expressed　the　general　feeling　in
  our　train　was　evidenced　by　the　many　women　who　leaned　from　the
  wagons；　thrusting　out　gaunt　forearms　and　shaking　bony；　labour…
  malformed　fists　at　the　last　of　Mormondom。　　A　man；　who　walked　in　the
  sand　and　goaded　the　oxen　of　the　wagon　behind　ours；　laughed　and　waved
  his　goad。　　It　was　unusual；　that　laugh；　for　there　had　been　no
  laughter　in　our　train　for　many　days。
  〃Give　'm　hell；　Laban；〃　he　encouraged。　　〃Them's　my　sentiments。〃
  And　as　our　train　rolled　on　I　continued　to　look　back　at　Laban；
  standing　in　his　stirrups　by　the　baby's　grave。　　Truly　he　was　a　weird
  figure；　with　his　long　hair；　his　moccasins；　and　fringed　leggings。　　So
  old　and　weather…beaten　was　his　buckskin　shirt　that　ragged　filaments；
  here　and　there；　showed　where　proud　fringes　once　had　been。　　He　was　a
  man　of　flying　tatters。　　I　remember；　at　his　waist；　dangled　dirty
  tufts　of　hair　that；　far　back　in　the　journey；　after　a　shower　of　rain；
  were　wont　to　show　glossy　black。　　These　I　knew　were　Indian　scalps；
  and　the　sight　of　them　always　thrilled　me。
  〃It　will　do　him　good；〃　father　commended；　more　to　himself　than　to　me。
  〃I've　been　looking　for　days　for　him　to　blow　up。〃
  〃I　wish　he'd　go　back　and　take　a　couple　of　scalps；〃　I　volunteered。
  My　father　regarded　me　quizzically。
  〃Don't　like　the　Mormons；　eh；　son？〃
  I　shook　my　head　and　felt　myself　swelling　with　the　inarticulate　hate
  that　possessed　me。
  〃When　I　grow　up；〃　I　said；　after　a　minute；　〃I'm　goin'　gunning　for
  them。〃
  〃You；　Jesse！〃　came　my　mother's　voice　from　inside　the　wagon。　　〃Shut
  your　mouth　instanter。〃　　And　to　my　father：　　〃You　ought　to　be　ashamed
  letting　the　boy　talk　on　like　that。〃
  Two　days'　journey　brought　us　to　Mountain　Meadows；　and　here；　well
  beyond　the　last　settlement；　for　the　first　time　we　did　not　form　the
  wagon…circle。　　The　wagons　were　roughly　in　a　circle；　but　there　were
  many　gaps；　and　the　wheels　were　not　chained。　　Preparations　were　made
  to　stop　a　week。　　The　cattle　must　be　rested　for　the　real　desert；
  though　this　was　desert　enough　in　all　seeming。　　The　same　low　hills　of
  sand　were　about　us；　but　sparsely　covered　with　scrub　brush。　　The　flat
  was　sandy；　but　there　was　some　grassmore　than　we　had　encountered　in
  many　days。　　Not　more　than　a　hundred　feet　from　camp　was　a　weak　spring
  that　barely　supplied　human　needs。　　But　farther　along　the　bottom
  various　other　weak　springs　emerged　from　the　hillsides；　and　it　was　at
  these　that　the　cattle　watered。
  We　made　camp　early　that　day；　and；　because　of　the　programme　to　stay　a
  week；　there　was　a　general　overhauling　of　soiled　clothes　by　the
  women；　who　planned　to　start　washing　on　the　morrow。　　Everybody　worked
  till　nightfall。　　While　some　of　the　men　mended　harness　others
  repaired　the　frames　and　ironwork　of　the　wagons。　　Them　was　much
  heating　and　hammering　of　iron　and　tightening　of　bolts　and　nuts。　　And
  I　remember　coming　upon　Laban；　sitting　cross…legged　in　the　shade　of　a
  wagon　and　sewing　away　till　nightfall　on　a　new　pair　of　moccasins。　　He
  was　the　only　man　in　our　train　who　wore　moccasins　and　buckskin；　and　I
  have　an　impression　that　he　had　not　belonged　to　our　company　when　it
  left　Arkansas。　　Also；　he　had　neither　wife；　nor　family；　nor　wagon　of
  his　own。　　All　he　possessed　was　his　horse；　his　rifle；　the　clothes　he
  stood　up　in；　and　a　couple　of　blankets　that　were　hauled　in　the　Mason
  wagon。
  Next　morning　it　was　that　our　doom　fell。　　Two　days'　journey　beyond
  the　last　Mormon　outpost；　knowing　that　no　Indians　were　about　and
  apprehending　nothing　from　the　Indians　on　any　count；　for　the　first
  time　we　had　not　chained　our　wagons　in　the　solid　circle；　placed
  guards　on　the　cattle；　nor　set　a　night…watch。
  My　awakening　was　like　a　nightmare。　　It　came　as　a　sudden　blast　of
  sound。　　I　was　only　stupidly　awake　for　the　first　moments　and　did
  nothing　except　to　try　to　analyze　and　identify　the　various　noises
  that　went　to　compose　the　blast　that　continued　without　let　up。　　I
  could　hear　near　and　distant　explosions　of　rifles；　shouts　and　curses
  of　men；　women　screaming；　and　children　bawling。　　Then　I　could　make
  out　the　thuds　and　squeals　of　bullets　that　hit　wood　and　iron　in　the
  wheels　and　under…construction　of　the　wagon。　　Whoever　it　was　that　was
  shooting；　the　aim　was　too　low。　　When　I　started　to　rise；　my　mother；
  evidently　just　in　the　act　of　dressing；　pressed　me　down　with　her
  hand。　　Father；　already　up　and　about；　at　this　stage　erupted　into　the
  wagon。
  〃Out　of　it！〃　he　shouted。　　〃Quick！　　To　the　ground！〃
  He　wasted　no　time。　　With　a　hook…like　clutch　that　was　almost　a　blow；
  so　swift　was　it；　he　flung　me　bodily　out　of　the　rear　end　of　the
  wagon。　　I　had　barely　time　to　crawl　out　from　under　when　father；
  mother；　and　the　baby　came　down　pell…mell　where　I　had　been。
  〃Here；　Jesse！〃　father　shouted　to　me；　and　I　joined　him　in　scooping
  out　sand　behind　the　shelter　of　a　wagon…wheel。　　We　worked　bare…handed
  and　wildly。　　Mother　joined　in。
  〃Go　ahead　and　make　it　deeper；　Jesse；〃　father　ordered；
  He　stood　up　and　rushed　away　in　the　gray　light；　shouting　commands　as
  he　ran。　　（I　had　learned　by　now　my　surname。　　I　was　Jesse　Fancher。　　My
  father　was　Captain　Fancher）。
  〃Lie　down！〃　I　could　hear　him。　　〃Get　behind　the　wagon　wheels　and
  burrow　in　the　sand！　　Family　men；　get　the　women　and　children　out　of
  the　wagons！　　Hold　your　fire！　　No　more　shooting！　　Hold　your　fire　and
  be　ready　for　the　rush　when　it　comes！　　Single　men；　join　Laban　at　the
  right；　Cochrane　at　the　left；　and　me　in　the　centre！　　Don't　stand　up！
  Crawl　for　it！〃
  But　no　rush　came。　　For　a　quarter　of　an　hour　the　heavy　and　irregular
  firing　continued。　　Our　damage　had　come　in　the　first　moments　of
  surprise　when　a　number　of　the　early…rising　men　were　caught　exposed
  in　the　light　of　the　campfires　they　were　building。　　The　Indiansfor
  Indians　Laban　declared　them　to　behad　attacked　us　from　the　open；
  and　were　lying　down　and　firing　at　us。　　In　the　growing　light　father
  made　ready　for　them。　　His　position　was　near　to　where　I　lay　in　the
  burrow　with　mother　so　that　I　heard　him　when　he　cried　out：
  〃Now！　all　together！〃
  From　left；　right；　and　centre　our　rifles　loosed　in　a　volley。　　I　had
  popped　my　head　up　to　see；　and　I　could　make　out　more　than　one
  stricken　Indian。　　Their　fire　immediately　ceased；　and　I　could　see
  them　scampering　back　on　foot　across　the　open；　dragging　their　dead
  and　wounded　with　them。
  All　was　work　with　us　on　the　instant。　　While　the　wagons　were　being
  dragged　and　chained　into　the　circle　with　tongues　insideI　saw　women
  and　little　boys　and　girls　flinging　their　strength　on　the　wheel
  spokes　to　helpwe　took　toll　of　our　losses。　　First；　and　gravest　of
  all；　our　last　animal　had　been　run　off。　　Next；　lying　about　the　fires
  they　had　been　building；　were　seven　of　our　men。　　Four　were　dead；　and
  three　were　dying。　　Other　men；　wounded；　were　being　cared　for　by　the
  women。　　Little　Rish　Hardacre　had　been　struck　in　the　arm　by　a　heavy
  ball。　　He　was　no　more　than　six；　and　I　remember　looking　on　with　mouth
  agape　while　his　mother　held　h