In defense of the actions of President Brigham Young in the recent exodus, a review of the treatment the Church had received from its organization at the hands, or with the pleasure of the Government, was presented. It was explained that we were now acting in defiance of the United States Government, but it was thought that the Army sent out here was not a very friendly looking peace body, and it had been definitely decided that if we could not prevent the Army from entering Utah, we would destroy all our improvements, burn homes and barns, and leave the valley as near as barren waste as it was when we settled there.

At this meeting it was decided that the army could come into the valley, and that the suggestions of President Young should be followed explicitly. Under no conditions were they to stop in Salt Lake City, but were to cross the Jordan River, go up the river on the West side, through the narrows, which were about 18 miles south of the City, then round the south side of Utah Lake, and there on a small spring they were to make their camp, and it was to be known as Camp Floyd. The exodus of the Saints was not halted until every condition of the agreement had been fulfilled. As soon as the army was encamped at Camp Floyd, word was dispatched to the Saints that they could return to their homes. This word reached us while we were camped on the Provo River, about 35 miles south of Salt Lake City.

We camped here because, if we were permitted to return to our homes, we were far enough away, and not we had a good start. This word reached us about the 15th of July, and there was much rejoicing among us. When we reached our homes in East Weber we found our property in excellent shape. David and John had been left at home as members of the “burning detail” and they had cared for things very well. By the time of the affairs of the place and home had been put in shape, the volunteer grain was ready for harvest and we were blessed when we received one-hundred seventy-five bushel of excellent wheat.

With harvest over and preparations made for winter there was not much for me to do. Ever since I had been married I had been almost constantly in some public service, for which I had not received one “red cent” of money, as a result I had no money and had accumulated very little or no property. My wife and myself had no clothing but what we wore every day. I did not have a second shirt to my back. Something had to be done but our problem was, what should be done. There was no work, the only hope seemed to be to get someone to create a job for my special benefit. I decided to go see Mr. Judson L. Stoddard, he sometimes hired some help, and try to get a few days work. He told me he could hire all the men he could that would work for their board. These men were mostly camp “followers” who had come to Utah with the army, and you can imagine their circumstances.

Mr. Stoddard was sick in bed, and about all the work he had, undone was getting wood from the mountains for his winter use. He finally told me that if I wanted to get out his winter wood he would pay me $1.00 a day. So, as soon as I could go home and give my folks the line up I would be ready. When I told them the work I had to do and the hours I must work they were surely opposed to any such deal. Bit I was desperate, I needed the money and a dollar a day, if I did have to work 24 hours to get it, was much better than any prospect I had at home. I had often played for a dance for which I was to get a bushel of wheat, or potatoes, or something of that kind, but very little of it did I ever receive. I did not insist on being paid at the time, so the promises were never kept. While brown sugar was $100 a pound, and flour at Camp Floyd was $25.00 per sack, and other groceries in proportion, and the cheapest cloth $.60 a yard and upward, yet I was pleased to go to work for a $1.00 a day, hoping to provide myself and wife with at least clothing, for it was still the practice in our home to make our own clothing, and with Mother’s help it was a chance to help Jane, my wife, to a start.

I returned to Mr. Stoddard’s the following Monday morning and started work. This was about the 1st of October. The ranch was about one mile from the foot of the mountain. I was provided with a card. This card was simply the front gear of a large wagon. I was given two yoke of oxen. I got up at 4 o’clock each morning and ate a cold breakfast placed on the table the night before. Then I was off to the mountains. I climbed quite high on the mountain just back of the present location of Centerville. There was an abundance of dry wood there and I would get the wood out, load the large ends on the card and let the small ends drag on the ground. At the foot of the hill I would unload and go on to Mr. Stoddard’s house reaching there about 9 o’clock at night. With the exceptions of Sundays I worked twenty-six days and received $26.00 in gold and silver. I left for home at once and in a few days my wife and I went to Salt Lake City and purchased some of the things we needed most, and returned with a few dollars.

It was about this time that my wife and I decided to move out of the house of my father and live by ourselves. I remember that Mother gave us one plate, one fork and one spoon. Mrs. Robinson, with whom Jane used to live, gave us a duplicate of this, and we commenced life alone in this manner. Our cooking was done on an open fireplace. We had a very good straw bed, except for a tick and bedstead. I made a bedstead by using the walls and a leg at the outer corner. We had no bedsprings, the bottom of the bed was boards, and the straw was placed on them. We had no table so we ate our meals from a box in which we kept our clothing.

Soon after my return from Mr. Stoddard’s I was offered the job of teaching the school at Mountain Green, which I accepted. I had about 20 pupils, and spent a very pleasant winter. The proposition they offered me was not so good but the best in sight. It was what they called a “subscription school,” that is the parents of the pupils were to give me so much, some provisions, some money, while others gave what they could best afford. I got along fine with the school, and I had moved Jane up there with me and we lived in a house near the school. School ended about the middle of February and we moved back to East Weber. Here, on March 1, 1859 our home was blessed by the arrival of a baby girl, and we named her Betsy. She was all a child could be to anyone, but she was taken from us by death March 19, 1859. These were indeed sad dark hours for us, in which we were deprived of our first-born. Levi Hammon made us a coffin, and Mother washed and dressed the child and placed it in the casket. No services were held, and the body was taken directly to the cemetery. Ira N. Spaulding, John M. Bybee, David B. Bybee and myself acted as the pallbearers, and Ira Spaulding dedicated the grave, unto the Lord. We placed the earth over the coffin carefully and returned home.

The following summer I worked for Father on the farm in East Weber. We were all blessed with health this year and with an abundant crop. The summer and autumn went very rapidly and ere we realized it, winter was upon us again. We had many pleasant hours in our association together, but life was quite uneventful. Even the winter of 1859-1860 passed quietly and quickly, but with a prayer for Thanksgiving for the many blessings we enjoyed together. As spring gradually tapered into the early summer, we found ourselves with Father on the farm. Again this year we harvested splendid crops, and when the winter of 1860 arrived we were well prepared to receive it.

On the 14, of September 1860, our second child was born and was christened Robert Lee. He was given my name. The mother and child did very nicely, and the father was well pleased.

As soon as the harvest was taken care of we were off to the mountains for our winter wood. The wood that was best and easiest to get had been made use of, so we joined with Bishop Osborn and went up on Strawberry Creek in the lower end of Weber Valley. There the wood was of good quality and near the base of the hills. It was necessary to spend one night in making the trip. Our first trip, as we were returning with our loads, about where the road reaches the level land above East Weber, we were surprised to hear the Indians in the foot hills below us, firing their guns and shouting. They came directly to us and stopped us. Bishop Osborn was in the lead, and the leader of the Indians was called “Little Soldier.” He had thirteen in his band, and they were all under the influence of liquor, almost drunk. Little Soldier was not drinking. They were very hard to satisfy, and when they came to deal with Bishop Osborn they were almost cruel. Little Soldier said he did not keep his promise to them. And at one time we were all told to go, but Osborn must stay. I am sure that all that saved our lives at this time was the love they had for my Father. Father was always a friend to the Indians, and when he made them a promise he kept it faithfully, and was honest with them.

Little Soldier always called father “Toas Pompa,” which to them meant White Hair. He knew all of our family as well as nearly all of the settlers of East Weber, and on this occasion he came to me and put his arm around me, and proceeded to tell the rest what a good man “Toas Pompa” was, and what good boys he had, that when he promised an Indian a shirt, he got a shirt. Then he said when Osborn promise a shirt, we no get em.

We were all greatly relieved when they went on their way, but we were mindful, lest they change their minds and return to finish their job. On subsequent trips we were unmolested by them. They obtained their liquor from a man by the name of Park, who operated a “still.” Between East Weber and Salt Lake City there were two roads that were used most of the time. One was down through the open valley and was known as the Sand Ridge Road, and the other followed the foot of the mountain and was known as the Mountain Road. About two miles out on the Mountain Road a man by the name of Park lived and this was the man who made the “mule” and sold it to the Indians.

A few days after we finished hauling our winter wood, Father’s horses disappeared, and search as we would we could not find them. About two weeks after they disappeared, Little Soldier came to our home on one of his friendly calls, and Father told him about the horses. He promised to help Father find them, and sent two of his men to look for them. It was not long before they located two Indians and they had Father’s horses. They were taken to Little Soldier and he brought them and the two Indians to our home. After asking whether they belonged to Father or not, and found out they did, they were delivered to us and Little Soldier took his quirt and soundly whipped the offenders. Father interfered, but to no avail. He wanted us to see their punishment and when he had finished he simply said “Bad Injuns.” I did not teach school this winter and except for a few dances I played to, the fall and winter was uneventful.

The spring of 1861 was now with us. Father rented the farm by brother John which meant I was to look for something to do. There was nothing in East Weber by way of work. I had heard that Mr. Stoddard expected to do some extra work, so I went to see him. I found he intended to go to Carson City, Nevada with six wagons loaded with salt. He told me I could drive a team for him, in fact he had calculated to get me to go. This was April 15, 1861, and as there was work to do to prepare the equipment, I went to work at once. Each wagon was fitted with eight boxes, so arranged so as to use all the room in the wagon box. These were filled with salt. Mr. Stoddard was interested in the merchandise business at Farmington, and had accumulated 2,800 dozen of eggs, and proposed to take them to Carson City. In order to carry them, they were distributed in the salt in all six wagons. The possibility of the salt hardening in transit had not been discussed.

As a matter of being prepared, Mr. Stoddard wanted to take some extra ox bows, and as there was plenty of oak, suitable for them at East Weber, he sent us there to make them. He also told me to look out for some butter, and to get all I could find. I told him about Mother’s ability as a butter maker, and I was to get all she could prepare, and he would allow her trade in the store. The butter was put in a tub, and there was 50 pounds of it.

I returned to Farmington April 28, with 15 ox-bows and set about at once to complete arrangements for the start. We left Mr. Stoddard’s home May 1st, 1861 and five of the wagons traveled the Sand Ridge Road, while I went to East Weber along the Mountain Road. This arrangement was made to make it possible for me to get my bedding, the butter and the ox-bows. I joined the other wagons at Ogden. From Ogden on went North to Brigham City and crossed Bear River straight west of there. Our first camp was made a few miles north of Ogden. The second camp soon after we crossed Bear River. Our company consisted of 7 men. Herton Haight was our wagon boss and had charge of the company. I recall only three of the drivers, myself, Ed Pierce and a Mr. Cleveland. A man named William Carbine was a member of the party, but had his own cargo and outfit. We camped three or four days on Bear River because we heard the Indians were very bad on the Old Migration Trail. We were also told there were quite a number of people leaving Utah for California within the next few days, so we waited and joined them. We now had 36 wagons in our party and over 40 men. Nearly every wagon out side of our six had a family in it. The Company, as a whole, was very well armed with guns and ammunition.

One day as we were preparing to pull Camp, and before we were joined by the other company, Mr. Haight was approached by an Indian and after an exchange of a “little white” it was found out he wanted to travel with us, and Mr. Haight let him go. The new party objected, strongly, but Mr. Haight let him go anyway. He proved to be a very good hand to have along. He took his turn standing guard, carried wood and water, and never evaded an opportunity to be of service.

We were making good time and all was well, Mr. Haight had refused to act as Captain of the combined companies, so it fell to a man by the name of Mallory, of the second company. Mr. Mallory was a horseman of some repute. He proved to be a very good captain, and in most matters a fair-minded man. But in the affairs of the heart, like many of us, he was not so just. He had married a second wife, and they were the parents of a very clever little boy. When he decided to leave Utah she would not go with him, and he would not leave the child. I always thought he did wrong to ignore the pleadings of the Mother for her child.

Going westward we saw many interesting, natural formations. The first of interest was the City of Rocks. From a distance they appeared like a city of large and small buildings. The next of particular interest was the Valley of a Thousand Springs, a very pretty sight. We always had good water for camp use. The first water of importance that we reached was Raft River, Goose Creek in the order named. From here we traveled somewhat South of West until we reached the Humbolt River. We were obliged to cross the river here but the banks were too high and the water too deep, even in the time of a normal flow it would have been too deep, but now with the extra flow of high water it seemed almost useless to try to ford. Immediately below us the river entered a box canyon, while not extraordinary, yet the banks were such that a fording was impossible, above us the mountains reached the bank of the stream. But near where we first reached the river the water passed over a low ledge of rocks in the channel and just below the water was almost motionless, and from 10 to 30 feet deep, and the banks not high. We had in mind to build some kind of a bridge, but we had no practical way of doing so. We could see pine timber to the East of us, which we estimated to be about 10 miles away. When we met or saw Indians along our way it was usually considered that they were friendly. We had seen none on our travels thus far, so we thought it unwise to leave our wagons, or a part of them while we went 10 miles for timber, so we tried our resourcefulness in another way. The opposite bank was well above the water, but lower than the bank on our side, so we dug holes in the banks on either side and in these we placed our ox-yokes and secured them. Then we took our log chains and fastened them from yoke to yoke across the stream in four lines. Willows were plentiful so we cut them and bound them in bundles, using all the spare rope we had, then we placed them on the chains across the stream and bound them as close together as we could. With the weight of the willows, the chains were two feet above the water at the lowest point, so we swam some of our oxen across and rolled one of our harvest wagons to the bank and headed for the “bridge.” We then passed a chain across and fastened it to the wagon and a yoke of oxen pulled it to the opposite bank. We followed this procedure and took all 36 of our wagons across without mishap. The chains never did reach the water, and the families in the wagons were permitted to ride across. We dismantled our bridge, took our chains and yokes and traveled down the Humbolt River on its banks, and at times in the bed of the stream. After several days travel we reached the Sinks of the Humbolt. Here the river spread over quite a little territory and formed what was sometimes called Humbolt Lake, and to this there is no visible outlet, hence, the Sinks of the Humbolt.

From here it was necessary to cross the desert to the Carson River a distance of about 10 miles. The sand was quite course and the resistance great. So we spent a day at the Sinks resting our animals for the task. The heat of the day and the heat stored in the sand made it necessary for us to plan to conserve the strength of our stock. So we decided to start late in the afternoon and travel during the night. This we did and reached the Carson River at the break of dawn the following day. About two days travel East of the Sinks of the Humbolt we encountered the first Indian in our travels thus far. He rode into our camp early one morning carrying quite a supply of buckskin. He wanted to trade it for powder and bullets. We were just breaking camp, and as soon as Mallory heard what he wanted he made himself clear in a few words, to the effect that if any man in camp traded him powder and bullets he hoped that man was the first man the Indian killed. Needless to say the Indian was soon on his way.

When we first reached the Carson River the first town we saw was Ragtown, one blacksmith shop, one cabin and a small haystack. Here we rested our stock for a day. When we reached Ragtown the Indian that joined us on Bear River near Brigham City, disappeared. He did not make known his intentions to anyone. This seemed to be where he was headed, or that we were as close to his place as we were likely to get, so he just left us.

On our way up the Carson River we could see Virginia City at the foot of the mountains to our right. When we reached Carson City Mr. Haight located a Mr. Grant, a man he knew in Utah. Mr. Grant was interested in mining, and we sold our entire cargo to him except our eggs. We ranged our stock about two miles North of the city in Washoe Valley; the food was plentiful and good water. We were at Carson City about three weeks. Our greatest camp problem was to get someone to cook our meals, as no one wanted the job. Mr. Haight finally asked me to do it, so I was the cook at Carson City. During our stay we disposed of our eggs, or the most of them that was fit to use at all. After all our care in packing the eggs in salt, it proved to be a poor undertaking, in the swamps the salt absorbed the moisture and out on the desert the moisture evaporated leaving the salt hard. It was almost impossible to get the eggs out of the salt, and those we did get out were no good. We sold about 50 dozen of the two thousand eight hundred dozen we started with. We sold a few in Carson City, but our eggs soon lost their reputation and our market was gone. Mr. Grant and I started out for Virginia City to sell what we could of them there. We sold a few at Silver City and Gold Hill on the way up, and finished the job at Virginia City and returned to Carson City. As we passed through Silver City and Gold Hill coming back we were recognized as the egg men and while we were not bothered, we heard several sarcastic remarks about our eggs

We were in Carson City on the Fourth of July, and taken all in all, it was a memorable occasion. At this time the news of the outbreak of the Civil War was reaching us. Most everyone felt it a duty to celebrate the Fourth, and it was a good day for horse racing, drinking and fighting. I sat in front of the saloon that evening and saw six fights just about as fast as they could be pulled off.

Another attraction at this celebration was the arrival of the first overland Stage, going East. In the crowd you could hear someone shout, Hurrah for Jeff Davis, then an answer in another part of the gang, Hurrah for Abe Lincoln, then the next was an exhibition of the manly art of self-defense.

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