I shall pass rapidly over our journey across the mountains and along the valley of the Mohavè river. Away we go across Soda Lake, which is dry, and the surface of which as far northward as the eye can extend, is covered with saleratus, white as the driven snow. If you should see at a distance anything coming towards you, it would seem to approach bottom upwards; if an animal, the feet would be in the air. But on we go to the Granite springs, thence we pass on to Piyute Creek. Slowly we ascend the mountains from which we are to descend to the Colorado river. Colonel Hoffman orders a halt, for the smoke of Indian fires is seen ascending for miles along the banks of the majestic river. Having got all things prepared for either peace or war, we march down into the valley. The Indians have undoubtedly caught sight of us, for suddenly the smoke disappears, all the fires apparently being extinguished. We press on and soon reach the banks of the river. Following down the stream a mile or two, the colonel searches for a good spot for a camping-ground. As we are on the move, all mounted, well armed and in military array, about thirty Indians showed themselves. Moving cautiously at first, they gradually became emboldened and ran along our lines asking sundry questions. But we returned no answers. Having selected the spot for camping-ground, we lay out our camp in the form of a triangle. On the one side is a bluff from six to ten feet high, on the opposite side is a lake called Beaver Lake, about five hundred yards wide. Here, upon the rich grass which borders the lake, we tether our animals, each one having the range of a rope about thirty feet long. Here we considered them safe, as the Indians would hardly attempt to attack them. It was early in the month of January, 1859. The third side of our triangle was a dry swamp, covered with a dense growth of willow bushes. By order of the colonel, these bushes were cut down for a distance of sixty or eighty yards, so that no foe could approach unseen. By four o'clock in the afternoon, the labor of establishing our camp was completed. At some distance from us there was a large and constantly increasing band of Indians, curiously watching our proceedings. They were all well armed with their native weapons of lances, bows and arrows. As I was talking in one part of the camp with Joe Walker, Colonel Hoffman approached us and said, "I want one of you to go and have a talk with the Indians." "Very well sir," I replied, and turning to Joe, added, "will you go, or shall I?" "You had better go, I guess," Joe replied.