She said, "Mr. Drannan, may I have a piece of that yearling's hind quarter? I will tell you what I want to do with it; my girls and I have picked a lot of wild onions today, and I want to make a stew, and we want you and Mr. Bridger to come to our tent and eat supper." I assured her she could have all the meat she wanted from my little heifer. One of the girls ran to their wagon to get an ax and her father to come and chop it off for them. By this time the men had about finished dressing the Buffalo, and every body helped themselves to what part they wanted. There was plenty for all, and some of the rough part left over. It did not seem long to me when one of the girls came to Jim and me and told us that her mother had sent for us to come and take supper with them, and I think that was one of the times we did justice to a meal, for a stew with onions was a rare dish for us woodsmen, and a woman to cook it was a still more rare occasion. As soon as we had finished eating, Jim stood up and in a loud voice said, "Ladies, how many of you can dance?" I think there were as many as twenty-five answered, "I can dance." Jim said, "All right, get ready, and after dark we will have lots of music." One of the men asked, "Where are you going to get your music?" Jim answered, "Why dog gone it, Will and Mr. Henderson have engaged a band to play for us to night." And in a few moments the band struck up in a Coyote howl, and Jim laughed and said, "There, didn't I promise you a band? Isn't that music?" And from then until midnight the howling never ceased. It was something fearful to listen to. The smell of the Buffalo blood made them wild, and they howled worse then usual that night. A great number of the emigrants did not lay down until after midnight, and time after time asked me if I thought there was any danger of them attacking the camp. I told them there was no danger from them, and that if I knew there weren't any Indians within twenty miles of us I could stop their yelling in five minutes. They asked how that was possible. I told them that if I was sure there were no Indians in hearing, I would fire my gun off a time or two, and we would hear no more of the Coyotes at night. After midnight they quieted down and every one went to sleep, except the guards who watched the camp. Jim and I were up very early the next morning and called all the others to have an early breakfast, telling them we had to make twenty miles that day to get to water and grass so we could camp that night. As soon as breakfast was over Jim said to the women, "Now ladies, you won't have any more music to dance to for the next three nights, for you will see no more Buffalo, hear no more Coyotes, or see any Indians until we cross Green River." Several of the ladies said they would be glad if they never heard any more Coyotes howl. They did not like that kind of music to dance to, or to be kept awake all night listening to them either.