progress, when one of the parties who had been roughly handled, claimed kinship with me by calling me brother, and asked me to help him.

Not wishing to take part in any of their barbarous customs, I objected. The Indians then taunted me with being a coward, called me a squaw, etc.

I soon took in the situation, and saw that it would not be well to lose caste among them. I accepted the challenge under the promise that they would not be angry with me if I should hurt some of them. I had but little anxiety about the result, for they were not adept in the art of self-defense.

The Indians, numbering about one hundred and twenty, formed in two lines, and I took the squaw by the hand, and commenced my passage between them.

Only one Indian disputed my progress. With one blow I stretched him on the ground. All would probably have passed off well enough, had I not kicked him as he fell. This was contrary to their code of honor, and I paid a fine for this breach of custom.

I was acknowledged the victor, and it was decided that the squaw was mine. I immediately turned her over to the Indian that she desired for a husband.

This was my first and last fight for a squaw. It gave me a prestige among them that greatly added to my subsequent influence.

This short and lonely mission was brought to a close by my return to Harmony.

In the beginning of winter, I went down to the Santa Clara in company with Brothers Ira Hatch, Samuel Knight, Thales Haskell and A. P. Hardy.

We worked with the Indians, and gained much influence over them. We built a log cabin, and a dam to take out the waters of the Santa Clara Creek to irrigate the bottom land. Hard labor and exposure brought on me a severe attack of sickness. At the same time there came a heavy fall of snow, which made it impracticable to get any assistance from the nearest settlement, forty miles distant.

The brethren began to entertain some doubts about my recovery. However, after laying sick fourteen days, with nothing to nourish me but bread made of moldy, bitter corn meal, Brother Samuel Atwood arrived from Harmony with some good things to strengthen me.

After a few days, I started with Brother Atwood on horseback, for Harmony. I rode to Cottonwood Creek, where the town of Harrisburg now stands. I felt exhausted, and could go no farther. I was assisted off my horse and lay on the ground, where I fainted. Brother Atwood brought some water in the leather holster of his pistol, and put some of it in my mouth and on my head, which revived me.

With slow and careful traveling I was able to reach Harmony; but I was so reduced in flesh that my friends did not recognize me.

As soon as my health would permit, I returned to the Santa Clara.

I have before referred to a custom among the Piutes of taking women from each other. Sometimes two claimants decided who should be the possessor of the woman, by single combat; but more generally, each claimant would gather to his assistance all the friends he could, and the fighting would be kept up until one side was conquered, when the claimant who had led the victorious party, would take possession of the woman.

I have seen such engagements last all day and a part of the night. In one of these, in which over one hundred men took a part, some of the combatants became angry, and fought in good earnest.