We were always
early risers, but before we were ready the voices of men driving in
the cattle sounded all around us. As we passed above their camp, we
saw through the obscurity that the tents were falling and the ranks
rapidly forming; and mingled with the cries of women and children,
the rolling of the Mormon drums and the clear blast of their trumpets
sounded through the mist.
From that time to the journey's end, we met almost every day long
trains of government wagons, laden with stores for the troops and
crawling at a snail's pace toward Santa Fe.
Tete Rouge had a mortal antipathy to danger, but on a foraging
expedition one evening, he achieved an adventure more perilous than
had yet befallen any man in the party. The night after we left the
Ridge-path we encamped close to the river. At sunset we saw a train
of wagons encamping on the trail about three miles off; and though we
saw them distinctly, our little cart, as it afterward proved,
entirely escaped their view. For some days Tete Rouge had been
longing eagerly after a dram of whisky. So, resolving to improve the
present opportunity, he mounted his horse James, slung his canteen
over his shoulder, and set forth in search of his favorite liquor.
Some hours passed without his returning.
