The time had arrived when it was hoped that our big ox train would be approaching the mountains, and desiring to meet it and assist in bringing it through the canyons, I watched for an opportunity to join some East bound train. The late summer and early autumn had given us time to dispose of some merchandise that reached Salt Lake earlier in the season, and I was now free to leave the city. Learning of a small mule outfit that was about to start for the Missouri River, I concluded arrangements for transportation. This transportation embraced the so-called "grub" and the conveniences of a covered wagon in which one might ride on easy roads, the expectation being that the passenger would walk up the hills or over difficult tracts. The captain of the outfit, a big, burly freighter, seemed proud to have come from Pike County, Missouri, which he stated had produced the most distinguished men whom he had ever known. It had not been my privilege to meet any of the passengers booked for this Missouri outfit until their arrival at the corral at the appointed hour for starting. In accordance with the custom of the country, each passenger was to furnish his own lodging; in other words, each brought such blankets as were supposed to be necessary for protection at night. My bundle was deposited in the rear wagon, as I was desirous of securing the advantage of an observation car, which would afford an unobstructed view behind us. All the vehicles were ordinary large wagons with canvas covers. [Illustration: THROUGH THE WASATCH] My companions in that wagon were two young men from Ohio, each of whom had recently purchased a broncho horse, which he intended to take back to the States and incidentally to use under the saddle, as he might have opportunity, on the Eastward journey. These two quadrupeds were haltered to the rear of the last wagon, which they were expected to follow. That the bronchos might become gradually accustomed to a burden upon their backs, the young men had cinched tightly upon them their bundles of blankets. Thus equipped we rolled out from the city up the terraced slope of "the bench" toward the entrance into Parley's Canyon. (It may be stated that the bench is the narrow level table land, evidently an ancient shore line, that skirts the foothills of those mountains and indicates that during some period the waters in the valley reached that high level). The young men had commented favorably on the docility of their bronchos, which had for a time followed the wagon in a satisfactory manner, and expressed the belief that the animals would afford great comfort on the long trip, by enabling them to take horse-back rides.