Smith's party, which had been sent out to keep all supplies from
reaching Johnston's army, had burned two other wagon-trains that same
day, as we afterward learned. The wagons were all completely consumed,
and for the next few years the Mormons would ride out to the scenes to
get the iron that was left in the ashes.

Turned adrift on the desert with not a weapon to defend ourselves was
hardly a pleasant prospect. It meant a walk of a thousand miles home to
Leavenworth. The wagon was loaded to its full capacity. There was
nothing to do but walk. I was not yet twelve years old, but I had to
walk with the rest the full thousand miles, and we made nearly thirty
miles a day.

Fortunately we were not molested by Indians. From passing wagon-trains
we got a few rifles, all they could spare, and with these we were able
to kill game for fresh meat. I wore out three pairs of moccasins on
that journey, and learned then that the thicker are the soles of your
shoes, the easier are your feet on a long walk over rough ground.

After a month of hard travel we reached Leavenworth. I set out at once
for the log-cabin home, whistling as I walked, and the first to welcome
me was my old dog Turk, who came tearing toward me and almost knocked
me down in his eagerness. I am sure my mother and sisters were mighty
glad to see me. They had feared that I might never return.

My next journey over the Plains was begun under what, to me, were very
exciting circumstances. I spent the winter of '57-'58 at school. My
mother was anxious about my education. But the master of the frontier
school wore out several armfuls of hazel switches in a vain effort to