A party of emigrants stopped near us to-day at noon, and one of the men came to our camp. We, of course, asked if they had seen the Hardinbrooke train. They passed the train Sunday. They were still where we left them at the west end of Bitter Creek. He saw and talked to the captain, who told him to tell us, if he caught up with us, “The sick folks are all better, and they expect to come to Green River Monday.” They may catch up with us yet. I do not know what we would do with ourselves if it were not for the currants. We are making jelly, and as it takes lots of currants to make a little jelly, we have not suffered from enforced idleness, with our suspense and anxiety. * * * * * Wednesday, August 16. There are three varieties of currants here. The yellow ones are not very plentiful. They are the largest and best. I have made a pickle jar full of the loveliest jelly. It is the color of gold and as clear as crystal. The red currants are very plentiful and more like the tame currants, though they do not yield as much juice. We gather the bushes by the armful, and carry them to camp, and sitting near each other, we pick off the currants. Though we do not talk much, we like to be near each other. Another day and they have not come, and another night of anxiety before us. THE WANDERERS’ RETURN. Thursday, August 17. I was awakened very early this morning, as soon as it was light, by hearing Hillhouse bustling about making a fire in the stove, as if in a hurry for his breakfast. I dressed as quickly as possible, and hastened out to see what it meant--for it was only four o’clock. When I asked for an explanation, he said: “I am going to hunt those men. I can’t stand this any longer. I have laid awake almost all night thinking about them.” “What can you do? You will be lost yourself.” “No danger of that. I will go back on the road as far as Green River, get some of the soldiers and some of the boys that know them, and we will hunt until we find them, or know what has become of them. I may meet them on the road and return to-night, but I will not come until I bring them with me, or know their fate.” I could not object to his going, but oh, how my heart sank at the thought. We made all haste to get breakfast, and Hillhouse was all ready to start when Mrs. Curry and the boys came out. Mrs. Curry seemed both glad and sorry he was going, said she hardly knew which. I had supplied him with pencil and paper, and he promised to send us word every opportunity. He mounted Dick and rode away without saying good-bye. He had gone almost out of sight. One moment more and a bend in the road would hide him from our view. When, lo, there is a gun fired not far off.