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442 Territorial marshal, Mr. Grice—a quondam volunteer in the Mexican War—was part of the cortége. Escort and ambulance had been refused; it was imperative to find both. Several proposals were made and rejected. At last an eligible presented himself. Mr. Kennedy, an Irishman from the neighborhood of Dublin, and an incola of California, where evil fate had made him a widower, had "swapped" stock, and was about to drive thirty-three horses and mules to the "El Dorado of the West." For the sum of $150 each he agreed to convey us, to provide an ambulance which cost him $300, and three wagons which varied in price from $25 to $75. We had reason to think well of his probity, concerning which we had taken counsel; and as he had lost a horse or two, and had received a bullet through the right arm in an encounter with the Yuta Indians near Deep Creek on the 3d of July of the same year, we had little doubt of his behaving with due prudence. He promised also to collect a sufficient armed party; and as the road had lately seen troubles—three drivers had been shot and seventeen Indians had been reported slain in action by the federal troops—we were certain that he would keep his word. It was the beginning of the hungry season, when the Indians would be collecting their pine nuts and be plotting onslaughts upon the spring emigrants.

I prepared for difficulties by having my hair "shingled off" till my head somewhat resembled a pointer's dorsum, and deeply regretted having left all my wigs behind me. The marshal undertook to lay in our provisions: we bought flour, hard bread or biscuit, eggs and bacon, butter, a few potted luxuries, not forgetting a goodly allowance of whisky and korn schnapps, whose only demerit was that it gave a taste to the next morning. The traveling canteen consisted of a little china, tin cups and plates, a coffee-pot, frying-pan, and large ditto for bread-baking, with spoons, knives, and forks.

The last preparations were soon made. I wrote to my friends, among others to Dr. Norton Shaw, who read out the missive magno cum risu audientium, bought a pair of leather leggins for $5, settled with M. Gebow, a Gamaliel at whose feet I had sat as a student of the Yuta dialect, and defrayed the expenses of living, which, though the bill was curiously worded, were exemplarily