Up until the time I left Salt Lake City for this trip I had never tasted tea or coffee; they were unknown in my father’s home. But on this I drank coffee with the rest of them, but sugar was scarce so I took mine almost without sugar. At this particular meal I was served coffee well sweetened, it was much too sweet, and although I used it for a number of years afterward, I never used sugar

We were up and gone early the next morning, and with an exception or two, I never saw the members of the Box party again. We traveled as fast as we could, consistently, spending just what time that was necessary at Fort Kearney, and in three days were on the South Platte River and forded over at once and then pitched camp. Here we found a Mr. Murdock headed east with the mail for June. In his party was a man named Porter Rockwell, he was a very sincere friend of the Prophet Joseph Smith and associated with him, and his activities in behalf of the Prophet made him a number one man as far as our enemies were concerned. Even at this late hour the people where we had been would like to get hold of him. Mr. Stoddard knew the conditions at Independence as to Mr. Rockwell and when he found out he was in the Murdock’s party, he tried to induce Rockwell to turn back with our company. Mr. Rockwell thought Mr. Stoddard was too talkative and treated lightly the warning of Mr. Stoddard. However, when Murdock broke camp next morning, Rockwell remained and returned to Utah with us.

I recall one morning that Mr. Smoot was walking along by the wagon, when he picked up a pocket knife, and when he found I had no knife he gave it to me. We were making very good time, about the only time we had lost was waiting an hour for a herd of buffalo to cross the trail. We knew better than to force them, or try to scare them, so we waited.

In a few days we were at Fort Laramie, but we could see that the progress we were making would not place the news in President Young’s hands by the 24th. We were positive we were the first ones to have any definite information of the movements of the Army, so we felt duty bound to get the word to Utah as soon as was physically possible. At Fort Laramie we decided to divide the party, giving the best of the equipment and animals to the leaders and send them on. The remainder of the party was to bring what was left and gather the stock at the various camps.

The leading party consisted of Judson L. Stoddard, A.O. Smoot, Porter Rockwell and Mrs. Parley P. Pratt. George Dalton, about the best hand with a four-mule team I ever saw, was taken along as teamster. And the Mexican cook was also with them. They left us at Fort Laramie July 12 or 13. We had no occasion to hurry so we enjoyed the regular campers life, reaching Salt Lake City August 9 or 10. As soon as I was released from the service, I went at once to Farmington, where I spent the night with Mr. Stoddard, and he furnished me with a horse and a saddle to finish my trip to East Weber.

It was understood among us that when this company was formed, that those who were called upon to carry the mail were to become shareholders in the company, in effect, depending upon the profits of the company for their remuneration.

Well, when we returned to Salt Lake City, we found we had no company, and there were no profits, and I do not know what became of the livestock. I do know, however that I never received a cent in money, and all I did receive was a suit of clothes, a hat and a pair of shoes for my four months of service. These were paid for out of company funds by Mr. Stoddard while we were in Missouri.

I was allowed but a few days at home, which I spent in helping to harvest the crops that were ready. President Young, on receiving the news of the advance of the Army commenced at once to make preparation to prevent the army from entering the valley. He called for volunteers, and nearly every man answered the call.

I left home about August 20 with the men from East Weber, for Echo Canyon where the main body of the men was forming. The camp there was under the command of Colonel C.W. West of Ogden, and we received the usual army discipline and training. Our drill Sergeant was Dan Campbell, who was a very efficient man. He was a quick-witted Irishman, and considerate of his men.

In the latter part of August I was allowed to return home on account of poor health. About two or three days after I left the camp for home, I received word of the accidental shooting of one of the volunteers from East Weber, named William Simmons. Most of the guns we had were muzzleloaders, and their destructive force was rather under estimated by the men, they entertained the idea that a rifle would not throw a ball over the cliff facing the camp in Echo Canyon. During the quiet of the afternoon Bill Simmons and Henry and Larry Robinson climbed the cliff. This was accomplished by starting some distance up the canyon and finally passing through a ravine to the rear, then to the top. From here they could see over the surrounding country, and they noticed a small group of the boys in camp cleaning their guns, and they called to them what they would give them a shot at if they wanted it. I do not recall the man’s name that did the shooting, but as soon as the gun was loaded, he fired at William Simmons, who gave the dare and was standing between the Robinson boys. The bullet landed in Simmons left temple, and he would have fallen over the face of the cliff, had it not been for his companions. Next day, Sunday, the body was wrapped in a wagon cover and taken to East Weber in a wagon. Here I saw the body the evening of the day it was brought home, a silent reminder of the uncertainties of life. We were on our way to the evening meeting when the body arrived. The first reaction of the people was that the army had arrived and there had been a battle, and excitement ran high until the facts were known.

I was curious to see the body, so I went to the wagon where it was and uncovered it until I could see the head and shoulders, and I saw the wound on the left temple. Within the next 24 hours I wished I had mastered my curiosity.

A few days before Mr. Simmons death, Colonel West, who was in charge of the camp, turned the command over to Colonel Jones of Salt Lake City, and he returned to Ogden. Bishop Osborn, of East Weber, had spent the Sunday that the body had arrived in Ogden, and had see Colonel West, and he asked the Bishop if he had someone that he could trust to take a message to Colonel Jones at Echo Canyon. The Bishop told him I was at home and would take the message. It had not been more than a few minutes since I saw Mr. Simmons’ body when the bishop asked me to take the message to Colonel Jones. I was furnished about the poorest horse and saddle any one ever rode. I did not go to Sacrament Meeting, but took my wife home and set out for Echo Canyon. There was no moon, the sky was clear and the stars glistened but with it all, it was dark and the walls of the canyon only served to intensify that darkness.

I was instructed to go to the upper end of Weber Valley and there make application to Ben Simonds, an old Delaware Indian, who was very friendly, for a fresh horse. I was forced to cross the Weber River the second time before I reached the Weber Valley. My horse was terrible; I used about twenty kinds of persuasion on him and couldn’t impress him with the idea that I was trying to hurry. I coaxed a little, then a lot, then whipped a little and then a lot, but the difference in speed was negligible. I had him on a full gallop but once, soon after I crossed the river in the valley. I was just congratulating myself on my speed when the old critter centered a badger hole with his right front foot and threw me farther than I could see in the dark. I have no idea how long I laid there, but when I became conscious of myself, I was lost as to which way was which. I finally placed myself and was ready to go, but I had no horse. I located him nearby and he acted as if he was waiting for me for sometime. I regained the saddle and was on my way.

Within the hour I was at Mr. Simonds’ home, and though I had to call them from their beds, they showed me every attention, and with the help of one of his men I was soon on my way. While they made ready the horse, the folks at the house fed me so I was in fact, ready to accept the chances of the night. From Ben’s place I went up through the Upper Weber Canyon. In all the experiences of my life I know there has never been any time so completely lonely as that night. If I had not seen Mr. Simmon’s body at East Weber, it might have been much the same as any other night. My new horse was not much improvement over the old, but I constantly tried for speed, but the time seemed to hold as if it hated to desert me. Of course I realized I was alone in the canyon, and the remembrance I had of Mr. Simmon’s body, and the loneliness of the night served to make me quite uneasy and nervous, and I expected the worst at every turn.

I was well along with my trip through the upper Weber Canyon, having just passed the Devil’s Slide, when in the distance ahead of me I noticed a faint light. Here again my imagination and the conditions of my mind caused me to wonder what was to happen next. Naturally, the first thought was of a detachment of soldiers out to prevent just such communications as I was bearing. I advanced slowly and with caution. From what I could see there was a camp there of a few persons and off the road to the left. The light was dim but from what I could see the road was clear beyond the camp. When I rode as close as I thought proper, I urged my horse to the best speed possible, and rode straight through their camp. As I reached the opposite side I heard someone say that it was someone riding through camp but made no effort to stop me. I was surely relieved when I was well on my way and made all the speed I could consistent with my “power plant,” for he was to last me all the way. As I approached Colonel Jones’ tent I was met by a guard and after I explained my mission and that I was cautioned to deliver the message to no one but Colonel Jones personally, I was soon presented to the Colonel and delivered my message.

The day before I left East Weber to make this trip, a request had reached Colonel Jones, from Lot Smith, for fifty men, and the men had all been selected from the volunteers, and this morning there was a great hurry to get the men on their way. I asked the orderly where the men from East Weber were located, and I went to them at once and found my brother David, Gordon and Henry Beckstead, Joe Wadsworth, and Jim Laird and others from our community making ready to go to help Lot Smith, and when I found Colonel Jones had no further use for me I went with them.

I do not recall that anyone in particular had charge of this detachment. We traveled in a body as fast as consistent and that night we joined Lot Smith on Ham’s Fork. One reason that Lot wanted more men was to care for the cattle he had stampeded belonging to the soldiers, to round them up and take them to Salt Lake City.

The men assigned to care for the cattle were up and gone early the next morning. Our camp on Ham’s Fork was made on the trail of the Army and just below where they were camped. Orders to Lot Smith were to do nothing but impede the progress of the army, and his activities up to this time had done very much to take the joy out of their undertakings. Our purpose now was to follow the army and stampede their remaining animals at the first opportunity. We were close enough now to keep a good check on their movements. We always kept a vanguard in the field and from the surrounding cliffs and points or vantage we had men with field glasses to study their operations. During the day we could keep track of them by a column of dust, from their horses and wagons. As they moved up the canyon we followed. Provisions were never too plentiful, barley supporting us in our work. With our minds continually trained on the activities of the army, and our duties and desires in connection with them, we really craved a little excitement. So on the evening of the third day out we ventured a little closer to their camp. We knew we were too close to them, but did not have their exact location. In a certain place in the canyon near them, the road detoured from the stream and up a small hill. As we very carefully rounded the point of the hill we were surprised to find their camp at the foot of the hill below us, and we had encountered their guard, but instead of using their firearms, we could hear them running down the hill and through the loose rock. From the light of their fires we could see the camp before the alarm was sounded. We discovered that they made use of a night guard and kept their stock in their camp during the night. We had found no opportunity to get at the cattle so we followed our trail back to our camp of the night before, about a mile below.

In our council around the fire we decided that no movement should be undertaken next day until a reconnoitering party could be sent out to find in which direction they were ranging their stock. We were all lined up next morning while all in camp, and Mr. Smith talked to us. He said if there was a man in the company that had a dread of being in a tight place, or was afraid of a bullet, and perhaps death, he wanted him to drop out of the line then and there; he wanted no man to go home and report that he had arbitrarily sent them into danger. He said he wanted six men to remain in camp with the pack outfit, and be prepared at a moments notice to act under orders. And he called for volunteers. Not a movement was made so all Smith could do was to appoint his men.

I was assigned to the reconnoitering party and we prepared to leave at once. We did not follow the road, but climbed to the highlands. When we reached the locality where we were the night before, we went down the hill toward the creek and into the road. Just then one of our party called our attention to the braying of a mule. The soldiers were going down the stream, but we found ourselves between them and their camp. We found the mules were on top of the hill, and not with the men we had located on the stream. So we made a dash for the top of the hill to do our stuff. When we reached the top we found the mules all right but a man at the side of every mule and ready to battle. We were sure short sighted when we did not find out the number of men with the mules before we charged them. There was 96 of them, and everyone had a gun and standing on the opposite side of the mule from us.

Captain Marcey of the Army held a short conversation with Lot Smith, and when Smith returned to us we were all puzzled to know just what to do, but it was evident that we must do something and do it suddenly. So we made a good job of going down the hill to the camp of the night before. I am telling you we lost no time getting on the trail of the mules again. We now went up the mountain on the opposite side of the canyon. Perhaps if you could see the mountain you would say a man and a horse could not go up that way, but I know there were fifty-two of us who went up there, and made a nice quick trip of it too. When we reached the top we landed on a level plateau, and we went straight across it for about a mile when we reached the brink on the other side we went right down into the canyon. When we were about 300 yards down the slope, we heard a few sharp rifle reports. We were very much surprised indeed, and turning around we found the soldiers with their mules had overtaken us and were amusing themselves shooting at us.

They left the ridge on the north side of the canyon the same time we did, while we were going down to our camp and up the hill, they went down to the stream and crossing it crept to a ravine and flanked us all the way. They reached the top just as we started down on the other side, and rushing across they took us completely by surprise.

When we ere nearly across the plateau Lot Smith told us to uncap our guns for he thought we had seen the last of the soldiers for that day, so there was nothing left to do but hurry. As far as I am concerned the number of shots fired at us was not definite, but in my opinion there must have been sixty shots fired, and all of them fired by the soldiers. During the shooting and we were all doing what we could to increase the distance between us and the soldiers, the horse Jim Laird was riding centered a badger hole and spilled Jim and dazed him somewhat, but in a few moments he was coming at full speed. When this happened the soldiers shouted as if they were pleased. We later found it was because they thought they had shot Lot Smith. The horse he rode was quite like the one Jim was riding at the time and they were satisfied that they had shot him. As a matter of fact there was not a shot fired by the soldiers that took effect in man or beast. Mark Hall carried the only reminder, that of a bullet hole through the crown of his hat. He remembered when it happened, but thought at the time it was a twig from a tree.

As soon as this affair was over, that very day we started for Fort Bridger. Our provisions were low and we were suffering from the cold. We did not have one tent in the company and David and Joe Wadsworth and I bunked together, and we had only three small quilts. In fact when we started for Fort Bridger, we were without provisions, and nearly all we had on the previous day was beef. On the first day toward Bridger we were overtaken by six inches of snow and very cold weather. And that same storm also turned the soldiers back. They did not go any farther up Ham’s Fork, but in a week or ten days came to Fort Bridger for the winter.

Through all my experiences of the last few months, I had been without a coat on my back, and when I reached Fort Bridger I was exhausted, and very badly chilled. As soon as we reached there I took shelter in the blacksmith shop, and as I warmed a little I could see things, as I know they should not be. I was so hungry and weak I couldn’t stand, and so cold I was numb. When I warmed up good I became unconscious. I fell in a heap and was removed to a manger in a nearby barn, where I was revived through the kindness of some friends. My brother David had left the Fort with a party about the time we arrived, for Fort Supply, twelve miles south of Fort Bridger. The next day the remainder of our company went down there, I rode my horse. When we reached Fort Supply I was surely sick, and Lot Smith found a bed for me in one of the houses. There was quite a number of the boys sick and the room was pretty well taken when we arrived. I stayed here for two or three days and recuperated sufficiently to join the company that Lot Smith had decided to send home on account of ill health, about 75 men as I remember it.

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