I was quite satisfied with my surroundings, when, unexpectedly, Mr. McCoon brought my sister back, and once more we had happy times together. CHAPTER XX I RETURN TO GRANDMA--WAR RUMORS AT THE FORT--LINGERING HOPE THAT MY MOTHER MIGHT BE LIVING--AN INDIAN CONVOY--THE BRUNNERS AND THEIR HOME. The Spring of 1848 was at hand when my brother-in-law said to me, "Grandma Brunner wants you to come back to her; and if, you would like to go, I'll take you to the Fort, as soon as the weather changes, and leave you with the people who are getting ready to move north and are willing to take you with them to Sonoma, where grandma now lives." The storm was not over, but the day was promising, when my bundle of clothes was again on the pommel of the saddle, and I ready to begin my journey. I was so excited that I could hardly get around to say good-bye to those who had gathered to see me off. We returned by the same route that we had followed out on that warm June day, but everything seemed different. The catkins on the willows were forming and the plain was green with young grass. As we neared the Fort we passed a large camp of fine-looking Indians who, I was told, were the friendly Walla-Wallas, that came every spring to trade ponies, and otter, and beaver-skins with Captain Sutter for provisions, blankets, beads, gun caps, shot, and powder. A large emigrant wagon stood near the adobe house where my new brother-in-law drew rein. Before dismounting, he reached back, took me by the arm and carefully supported me as I slid from the horse to the ground. I was so stiff that I could hardly stand, but he led me to the door where we were welcomed by a good-natured woman, to whom he said, "Well, Mrs. Lennox, you see I've brought the little girl. I don't think she'll be much trouble, unless she talks you to death." Then he told her that I had, during the ride, asked him more questions than a man six times his size could answer. But she laughed, and "'lowed" that I couldn't match either of her three boys in asking questions, and then informed him that she did not "calculate on making the move until the roads be dryer and the weather settled." She promised, however, that I should have good care until I could be handed over to the Brunners. After a few words with her in private Perry McCoon bade me good-bye, and passed out of my life forever. I was now again with emigrants who had crossed the plains in 1846, but who had followed the Fort Hall route and so escaped the misfortunes that befell the Donner Party.