Cash and Neelie were included in the invitation, also Mary Gatewood, but their fathers would not let them go. So Nellie Bower and I were the only ones who were allowed to accept his invitation. We rode our ponies until the ascent became too steep, and then dismounted and climbed. It was a hard climb, but we were amply paid. The view was magnificently grand. We found Mr. Walker’s name where he had cut it in the soft stone two years ago, and we left our names, with date and former place of residence, cut in the stone. There were hundreds of names there, but I looked in vain for a familiar one. I wonder if any one that we know will find ours? We passed the graves of two men this morning who had been killed by the Indians. What a sad fate; God forbid that any of our men or boys should die such a death. We are camping near a military post--Virginia Dale. It is just as beautiful as the name would imply. There are soldiers here for the protection of emigrants passing through these hills and mountains. Cash and I were riding with the captain when we came to the station. The officer in charge came out to speak to the captain and asked some significant questions, “How long have you been in the hills?” “Two days and nights.” “Where have you camped?” “In that basin about eighteen miles back. We stayed over Sunday.” “Have the Indians troubled you?” “We have seen no Indians.” He seemed greatly surprised, and said, “There has been no train come over that road within the last month without trouble, especially where you stayed over Sunday. Did not you notice those cañons in every direction? The Indians could surround you before you could know there was one near. The hills are full of Indians.” He told the captain where to camp, and where to send the stock for safety and protection. The captain thanked him, and we were starting on when the McMahan train came in sight. “Ah, ha!” he exclaimed, “I see now why you have not been molested. Just keep that train in sight, and you need have no fear of Indians.” And he just doubled up laughing until it was embarrassing to us. “But why? Why will that train be a protection more than another?” “Don’t you see that portable engine lifted away up there, and all those iron pipes? The Indians think it is cannon, or some sort of machinery invented for their destruction; no doubt they believe it could kill them by the hundreds, though the mountains stood between it and them.” So that is why we have not been molested. We have heard of depredations before and behind us, but we have not seen an Indian. Blessings on the McMahan train; I hope we will not lose sight of it while we are in this Indian country.