I realized my awkward situation, but was determined to warn the people, thus putting them on their guard. Accordingly on going to Provo, I informed the Bishop of their plans; he warned the different settlements and without any fuss the people were put on their guard. These men were closely watched until spring, when they all left for Lower California, most of them going about the time of the move to San Bernardino. In a fit of anger a friend of Loomas told me I would get killed some day, that Loomas was on my track. It is true I had in a measure betrayed him and his companions, still I had felt it my duty to do as I had done; and to prevent myself being killed I resolved to kill him on sight. So intent was I on this, that I came near shooting another party, that I mistook for Loomas. At this time I was camped at Spanish Fork. As I was returning from a hunt, I saw a person sitting with his back toward me, that in every way resembled Loomas in point of size and peculiarity of dress. Loomas was expected to visit us. I approached with my gun ready, greatly tempted to shoot without speaking, as he was also armed, but thinking this cowardly I spoke in order to draw his attention when, on his turning round, another face presented itself. As it turned out, no one knew of my intentions but myself. It makes me shudder even now when I think of my intentions and feelings at that time. I never saw any of the gang afterwards, but read an account of Loomas and others being lynched for robbery in California. My feelings at this time were very conflicting. I became fully convinced of the truth of Mormonism, and that it was my duty to obey, but I tried to excuse myself in many ways. I said nothing to anyone, but kept up a "terrible thinking." Being a Missourian it seemed, from the remarks made even in public, that salvation could never reach me. I remembered that my father always opposed mobocracy, so much so that he was called by some of our neighbors a Mormon. I was too proud to mention this to anyone; I knew I was honest and was not to blame for being born in Missouri. CHAPTER IV. My Baptism--Walker, the "Napoleon of the Desert"--Raids in Lower California--He Tricks the Mexicans--Extinction of the Tribe. During the winter I made several trips to Salt Lake City in company with Patrick, one of the firm in whose employ I was. The winter was very cold, we were glad to get under shelter, no matter how poor it was. At that time, there were few settlements from Salt Lake City to Manti. The first was at Willow Creek, Ebenezer Brown's farm, then Provo. The first house in American Fork was built in mid-winter, 1850-51, by Matt Caldwell. A bitter cold night brought four of us to this humble abode, made of unhewn cottonwood logs, where we were kindly greeted and housed for the night. Beyond Provo A. J. Stewart erected the first cabin at Peteteneet creek, which place is now known as Payson. From there on there were no settlements until Manti was reached.