In one of these big drives we came to a little stream called Bitter Creek, that flowed noiselessly down a ravine; and the first impulse was joy. But when we got to the bank we found a notice stuck up warning us to not let stock drink for the water was poisonous. It was as white as milk with alkali; and we wondered if we had not struck the land that flows with milk and honey--however, we saw no honey around. The horses wanted to drink, but we carefully kept them from it. Taking a cup, I resolved to taste the stuff, poison or no poison. I took but a little sip, and was satisfied; for it was so strong that the skin came off my lips and tongue wherever the water touched. We came to the mountains at dark, and following a road that branched off down a deep gulch to the right we traveled about two miles and opened into a little basin covered with rich, green grass, and where the pure, cool water bubbled from the foot of the mountain and ran off down the hollow, glittering in the bright moonlight. Having just come out of the scorching sands, and not having had a drink of good water for several days, the camp was to us delightful; and the ponies, after quenching their thirst from the crystal stream, rolled themselves upon the soft lawn and went to grazing the tender grass as though well contented. There were several other outfits there also; and by one of the wagons a splendid, large, dark-bay stallion lay dead. The horse was very dry when he came to Bitter Creek, and in spite of all warning his owner let him drink; and though he took but a few swallows of the ugly water it did the work. We stayed here the next day to recruit our team, and killed a fine large deer that came to drink at the water below; and the following morning we took our last draught from the cool waters, and rather reluctantly left the beautiful Antelope Springs to climb up the side of the mighty mountain to the west. We wound slowly up the steep side, and it was nearly night before we reached the top. When once there we could see for miles around over the rugged, barren peaks and the dry, sandy plains of Bitter Creek. The timber was but dwarfy bushes; the air was light and cool, and the clouds swept by our feet along the crest of the mountain, being sometimes so thick as to hide objects but a few yards away. We looked down the other side, and it appeared to be miles to the bottom; for the pines in the valley below looked like little twigs on a hazel-brush. We descended but a short way when we came to a pretty spring and stopped for the night; for our horses were very tired. The next day at noon we reached the bottom; and as we looked back it seemed as though we had come directly down from the heavens.