They had ridden as close together as their panting, reeking horses would allow, each looking fire and death into the blazing eyes of the other; but when Simpson raised his eyes and saw his own teamsters huddled together, unarmed and shivering, under the cocked guns of the mountaineers, he turned to Smith and muttered: "You have me at a bitter disadvantage." "We don't need that advantage, captain. What would you do if I should give up your arms?" "I'll fight you," answered the captain, between his teeth. The two had now reached the camp. "Well, we know something about that, too, Take up your arms." The teamsters shrank back as one man. "Not by a d--d sight," one of them exclaimed. "We came out here to whack bulls, and not to fight." "What do you say to that, captain?" asked Smith. With another violent oath, the captain ground his teeth and replied: "If I had been here before, and they had refused to fight, I would have killed every man of them." Major Smith was too brave a man not to be touched by this manly, yet reckless spirit; and after some parley with Stevens, he ordered his men to give Simpson two of the loaded guns, with two of the loaded wagons, to keep his men from starvation until their return to the Eastern States, and then ordering all out of the way, he called out for a big burly Irishman, a non-"Mormon," who had followed Stevens from the trains the day before, and had offered to join their forces: "Here, Dawson, you can put the torch to these trains; it is very proper for the Gentiles to spoil the Gentiles." The whole train of fifty-two wagons was burned; after which the mountaineers rode away, telling the teamsters that they could take what provisions they had secured for themselves to their comrades, a few miles away, and then return; and if any attempt were made to extinguish the flames, summary punishment would be administered to the offenders. XI. "IN THE VALLEY OR HELL" The details of that peculiar and providential winter of 1857-8 are written in lines of vivid interest and incident through the pages of recorded history. The pen would fain linger to describe how Lot Smith and his brave companions followed up their arranged course, burning grass and trees, tearing up bridges, and demolishing houses or huts of shelter everywhere along the road. Fort Bridger, the point to which the army of Utah had made its slow, plainful way, was a mass of ruins when entered by Colonel Albert Sidney Johnston and his half-frozen soldiers and the remnants of his trains and stock. I cannot refrain from giving the words of the report of this awful march, made to Congress by the two commanding officers, Colonel Johnston and Colonel St. George Cooke. The condition of the main division is thus stated by Colonel Johnston: