We camped for the night farther up this ravine. It was the same place where, a few years afterward, some immigrants were massacred, when a part of the Wright family was killed and others badly wounded. Years afterward I became well acquainted with the survivors. Their description of the place and its surroundings left no doubt in my mind that our ravine camping-spot was identical with that of their massacre. Our passage up Goose Creek Valley was extremely slow and difficult, the valley in places being no wider than the road, while in other places rocks and streams were so thick and close together that the way was almost impassible. We camped in this valley at nightfall, and, as there was no feed in sight for the animals, several of us took them up on the mountain side and gave them a feed of bunch grass, one man and myself remaining to guard them. Very soon a storm came up, dark clouds, deep thunder, sharp lightning, and a perfect deluge of rain were sweeping through the mountains. We brought the animals as close together as we could, tied them to the sagebrush, and kept going among them, talking to them and quieting them as best we could, for they were whinnying and trembling with fear. It was an awful night. Over and above the roaring storm could be heard the howling of wolves, which added much terror to the situation. On being relieved at daylight and going down to camp, the men were trying to find themselves and a lot of traps that were missing. It seemed that the men had lain down in a bunch on a narrow bit of ground close to the creek, and when the rain began to fall they drew a canvas wagon cover over them for protection, when, without any sound or warning that could be heard above the storm, a tide of water came down upon them which fairly washed them off the earth. They got tangled up in the wagon cover and were being washed down the creek, not knowing in the darkness when or where they were going to land. They kept together by all keeping hold of the wagon cover, but for which some or all of them might have lost their lives. They were finally washed up against a rocky projection and pulled themselves ashore. We were a sorry-looking lot--wet, cold, dilapidated, and suffering from the terror and fright of the night. After breakfast we went out to hunt for our missing goods, some of which we found caught in the brush; some was washed beyond finding. This was Sunday morning and the weather had cleared up bright. All Nature seemed anxious to make amends for her outrageous conduct of the night before. We concluded to stop here until Monday morning, and spread our traps out to dry, and cook some rice, and rest and replenish in a general sense. CHAPTER IX. WE LISTENED TO EACH OTHER'S REHEARSALS AND BECAME MUTUAL SYMPATHIZERS AND ENCOURAGERS.