And now our people were straggling in to the Mission. That spring a number of mountain Stonies visited us for the first time, and our week-day and Sabbath services were full of interest. More of our own people than ever before were desirous of doing some gardening, and we helped all as far as our means allowed us to do. Moreover, a good many expressed a desire to accompany us to the plains for an early summer provision trip, and as we wanted the provisions for the year, and as this was the very best way to have a number of our people with us for a time, I arranged for such a trip, to start about the middle of May. This time our camp was quite large, numbering about forty lodges, and we felt quite able to go anywhere on the plains. We followed for the first hundred and fifty miles our route of the previous summer. We lived on ducks, rabbits, beaver and a few deer and antelope, until about thirty miles out from the last point of woods, where we found our first buffalo, and from thence on until we reached herds of them we were never without food. At the spot where we found the first bulls Samson and little William and myself were of the party, and I came very near being killed. We had come suddenly upon the animals, and I was crossing in front of William to higher ground when he, not noticing me, fired at them, and the ball whizzed right past my ear. I turned and saw that William was fairly pale with fright. We were too much engaged for words. "Almost!" he cried, and I answered, "Yes, almost," and we dashed after the flying bulls. This narrow escape bothered poor William for some time, and I verily believe had he killed me by accident at that time Samson would have shot him right then and there, for he was angry at the other's carelessness, as he termed it.