It was now close to the first of August, 1851. We were camped at the western side of the fifty-mile desert which gave us so much trouble on our way over. We had packed provisions and equipment sufficient only to take us across the Sierra Nevada Mountains and back. We always allowed for emergency and put in plenty. The question now was whether we were well enough equipped to start on a long journey back across the plains. We made an inventory of our stock of provisions and supplies, and decided that we could make it. Brother William and Wilson took only a small quantity of supplies with them on their return journey. They were going into a country where plenty was to be found, and if they ran low, it would make no great difference. With us it was different. We had no assurances that we could get supplies of any kind at any point on the journey, at least not until we reached the outposts near St. Joseph.

As already related, we had carried our supplies from home on pack mules. We had no wagons or oxen with us and had to arrange to make the entire journey carrying our provisions and camp equipment on the mules.

After getting everything ready we bade goodby to brother William and Wilson, and started early in the morning. We entered at once upon the fifty-mile desert and traveled that day and all the following night. Our mules made better progress than the ox teams, and we reached the Carson Sink a little after daylight where we found water. We also fell in with four men who said they had started to Salt Lake, but had heard from the passing emigrants that the Indians were on the war path ahead and were afraid to go any farther alone and were waiting for company. We had heard the same story, so concluded their excuse for being there was a good one and that they had no designs upon unwary emigrants. We sized them all up and decided to take them into our company. Three of them were brothers whose names were Kilgore. The fourth was a German whose name I have forgotten. They all lived in Iowa. They seemed very much frightened at the idea of going on, and suggested that we wait for further reinforcements. We told them we had no time to waste and that we were going on and they could join us if they wanted to. They finally consented, rigged up their outfit and made ready. We traveled up the Humboldt River over the old road until we reached the head waters of that stream. There were three roads open to us from this point. One to Fort Hall on Snake River, a middle road which had been blazed since we came over, called Hedgepeth's cut-off, and the South road to Salt Lake. We took the Salt Lake road, though it was new to all of us. We struck Bear River, about one hundred and fifty miles from Salt Lake, crossed it and traveled down the East side to Weaverville and then on to Ogden. Here we rested a few days and had our mules and horses shod.

The day after we camped, Brigham Young paid us a visit. He asked us many questions, but we gave him little satisfaction. We had ten thousand dollars in gold with us and hadn't any confidence in the Mormons, so we kept close watch. A day or two after this, we took our mules and started to Salt Lake City. About twenty miles out on our journey we met a large vehicle drawn by eight big white horses, a driver on top, and a great many women and one man inside. I recognized the man as Brigham Young, but said nothing. A little farther on we overtook a man in the road and I asked him who the man and all the women were that we had met back on the road. He said it was Brigham Young and twenty of his wives.

We made a short stop at Salt Lake. There seemed to be but one road out of the valley in which the city is situated and that led us south about ten miles, thence east through a steep, rough canyon. It was at the mouth of that canyon where the Mormons later built the wall to resist the government soldiers. The road through the canyon led us finally to the top of a high range of mountains. Passing over this and down the eastern slope, we came to Ft. Bridger on Black Fork of Green River. We followed this stream down to the main prong of Black River and went thence northeasterly to Green River, thence up a prong of that river until we reached the divide at South Pass. Here, after four hundred miles over a strange road and over wild and rugged mountains and deserts, we came again to the Oregon Trail, and found a familiar road.

This portion of the road is now familiar also to the reader. It led down Sweetwater, past Independence Rock and Devil's Gate to North Platte River. Just after we crossed the North Platte, we stopped for dinner. We had eaten our meal and were resting when we saw what appeared to be a band of Indian ponies back across the river and about a mile away. We could not tell whether Indians were upon the ponies or not, but there was little doubt in our minds but that there were. We packed our mules hurriedly, saddled our horses, and started on and had made but a short distance when three Indians came running up in our rear on foot. They had dodged out from behind a boulder somewhere along the road. They appeared to be quite friendly. They said "How, How," and pointed to the good grass along the road. By these signs we understood that they wanted us to camp and were recommending the place to us. All this time the ponies were getting closer to us and all doubt that Indians were upon them was removed. When the three saw that we were not going to stop, one of them grabbed the bit of the horse ridden by one of the Kilgore boys and attempted to hold it. Kilgore threw his gun down at the Indian, who loosed his hold and ran back. One of the three during this performance dropped behind and raised a sort of flag. At this the whole band of ponies started towards us and every pony had a red-skin on his back lying close down to the pony's neck. They came galloping as fast as the ponies could carry them and in single file. As they came closer we saw that they were all painted up in war style with black feathers plaited in their hair. There must have been twenty-five or thirty of them, and there were nine of us—five Gibsons, three Kilgores, and the Dutchman. This Dutchman rode in a little cart while the rest of us were on horse-back. We had eight pack mules loaded with our camp equipment and provision, and they had to be taken care of.

We put the pack mules abreast and pushed them directly ahead of us. The first Indians to reach us appeared to be very friendly, as if they could deceive anybody by that old ruse. They said "How, How," and appeared to be very anxious for our welfare. Their purpose in this, it was plain enough to see, was to allow their companions all to come up. When the last of their party caught up they all set up a great yell and made a dash to get between us and our pack mules. Every man in our company drew his navy and each man pointed at a different Indian. We had the drop on them. They had not drawn the guns which some of them had or the bows and arrows which others carried, and the first attempt to draw a weapon meant a dead Indian and they knew it, so they halted and fell back. As soon as they were out of the way we moved up and formed a ring around the pack mules, facing outward. This seemed to please them wonderfully, for they started galloping around us, yelling and going through all manner of ferocious maneuvers, but apparently never getting in a position where they could draw a weapon. As soon as we had surrounded our mules, Zach and Robert slipped off their horses and coupled all the mules together. This would keep them from scattering out. In a moment the boys were back in their saddles and back in the ring facing outward. The Dutchman in his cart was outside of our ring. He was very much agitated for a time for fear he would get cut off from us and be taken by the Indians. He managed to dash in, however, and get right close to our line and stop his horse. This gave him a chance to get out his double barrel shot gun which he carried in the cart and get ready for action.

This milling and yelling, around and around, must have kept up for ten or fifteen minutes. We didn't want to kill any of them, but we didn't propose they should get any advantage of us, and every man was on guard. By and by, Robert and Zach, who faced the road ahead, put spurs to their horses and broke through the ring, Robert turning on the Indians to the right and Zach to the left, each with a navy in each hand and the bridle reins in his mouth. This caused the Indians to break up the milling and hurry to the rear in order to keep their forces together. At the moment when they started back, two of our men put whip to the mules and forced them out through the gap as fast as they could gallop. The rest of us stood firm and steady, holding our guns on the Indians. We held them in this manner until the mules were well out of the way, then turned and galloped after them. We knew all the time that we had the Indians bluffed. They couldn't get any advantage of us and they would not fight in the open. They stood completely still after we left them and continued to watch us as long as we were in sight.

We made good haste that afternoon and traveled late. By 6:00 o'clock we were twenty-five miles away, and after supper we pressed forward until midnight. We counted that this put us a safe distance away, but to make still more certain of our position, we rode off from the trail about a mile to camp. At daylight we were moving again and the next day at noon reached Ft. Laramie. Perhaps this haste and forced marching were all unnecessary, but in dealing with the Indians, it is a good idea to put just as much distance as you can between yourself and them. Ft. Laramie offered us the first real security we had known since we crossed the Continental Divide. The whole territory, especially between Platte River and Ft. Laramie, was infested with the worst bands of Indians then known to emigrants, and many trains had been robbed and the members killed on this portion of the journey.

We found sixty thousand Indians at Ft. Laramie to draw their pay from the government. All were camped across the river north of the Fort. As we left Ft. Laramie we rode over and stopped for our mid-day meal. They gathered around us, made signs, tried to swap ponies with us and pretended to be, and were in fact at that time, very friendly with us. I remember an amusing incident that occurred at this time. Brother Isaac had a little Spanish mule which he offered to the Indians for a pony. The Indians asked if the mule was gentle. Isaac told them it was perfectly so, and in order to prove it, he jumped upon the mule bareback and with nothing but a halter to control it by. The mule had carried a pack all the way from Sacramento, but this was a new experience. He immediately bowed his back, stuck his head down between his knees, and began bucking. In a twinkle, Isaac was rolling ten feet away in the sand. I never saw anything give as much delight as this gave the Indians. They whooped and yelled and kept it up. Now and then it would subside and then break out again. We joined the Indians and laughed as heartily as they; everybody enjoyed it but brother Isaac. It was like most funny things, no fun at all to somebody.

About 2:00 o'clock we started down North Platte. The soldiers warned us to look out for scouting parties of Indians, and our own experience told us this was good advice. We met with no trouble, however, and reached the mouth of South Platte in good time. On this ride from Ft. Laramie to South Platte I think we must have seen hundreds of thousands of buffalo. They were so tame they would hardly give us the road. We had all the good buffalo beef we wanted every meal. A while before camping time, one of our party would ride ahead, pick out a good place where water and fuel could be had. He would then ride out to the closest buffalo herd, pick out a fat yearling, shoot it, and have it ready when we came up. It was short work to make a fire, make our bread, make the coffee and broil a fine buffalo steak. I have never enjoyed any meals in my life more than these. There was only one trouble about this method of getting our meat—the wolves kept us awake most of the night fighting over the carcass. In order to avoid this we usually dragged the carcass out of hearing of the camp. On the trip down from Ft. Laramie we noticed one day a great herd of buffalo far in front of us and a little to the right of the trail, which seemed to be grazing on the hillside in a circle. As we came nearer we made out the situation more clearly. Hundreds of them grazing, heads outward, formed a complete circle in which there must have been a thousand little calves all lying down. On the opposite hillside a half mile away, we saw about twenty savage wolves watching the herd. The buffalo were watching also. They knew the wolves were there and they were protecting their calves against them.

When we reached Ft. Kearney we learned that the Indians on Little Blue were on the war path, so kept on down Platte River fifty or sixty miles farther, and then passed across the country where Lincoln now stands, and reached the Missouri River at old Ft. Kearney, where Nebraska City is now situated. We crossed the Missouri River into Iowa and thence down the east side of the river. About the middle of the afternoon one day, we crossed the Missouri line, journeyed on to night, and went into camp without a guard, the first in three months. We passed Jackson's Point and Oregon, in Holt County, and reached Jimtown, Andrew County, where we stopped for the night with Drury Moore, a cousin of ours, and slept in a bed, the first in three years. Next day we reached home.

We rode up, driving our pack mules loaded with blankets, bread pans, frying pans, coffee pots, tin cups, and sacks of provisions; hair and beard long and unkempt and tanned as brown as Indians. Mother, sister Mary and brother Isaac's wife were the only members of the family at home and they came out on the portico of the house to watch us. They were not expecting us for two years, and of course, thought the caravan they saw belonged to strangers. When we began climbing off our horses and fastening the pack mules to the fence, they fell back into the house. We hitched, got over the fence, and walked up to the door without being recognized. In fact, we had a real hard time convincing them that we were really ourselves, and I am not very much surprised that they should not have known us. The dirt, sand, wind, sun and the grimy life we had led for more than six weeks without a shave or a hair cut was enough to disguise us.

We reached home about the middle of September, 1851. It was a delightful thing to be at home once more, but in order to carry out our plans we had little time to spare during this season of the year. Prairie hay grew in great quantities on the old farm and it was now in perfect condition to be cut and cured. We rested only a day or two, then sharpened up the scythes and went to work. We cut and cured twenty or thirty tons of this hay in order that we might have something to feed the cattle on as we collected them together. After this was done, we had a good long period of rest. Christmas came and we entered into the fun with the young folks. I think I shall never forget this winter at home.

About the first of January, 1852, we began buying cattle and kept it up throughout the remainder of the winter. By the first of May we had five hundred and fifty head collected upon the old farm ready to start.