Four young people stepped out of the crowd to make their way to the head of the hall. The organist struck up a pleasing, though not very classic air, and they sang with spirit and harmony this song: When our craggy hillsides freshen in the springtime, When the canyons call for all that love to roam, When the med’ larks trill their love songs o’er the sage plains, Then my heart turns to my rugged mountain home. REFRAIN ’Tis the West, the craggy West, that calls, that calls me; ’Tis the sage and sego-lily land I love, With its amber skies, its crystal streams, its mountains, Where among the canyon wilds we rove, we rove. Not your grassy, gentle Eastern hills can lure me, Nor your sunny, Southern skies tempt ’way my heart, Nor the waving green of sky-to-sky prairies, Make me long from rugged Western scenes to part. (Refrain) Let me live fore’er among the mighty mountains, Let me feel their splendid strength within my soul, Let me wander ’neath their groves of whispering aspens, Let me dream at last where mountain streamlets roll. (Refrain) The crowd applauded noisily till the quartet sang again the refrain, with the audience joining in heartily, if not always harmoniously: ’Tis the West, the craggy West, that calls, that calls me; ’Tis the sage and sego-lily land I love, With its amber skies, its crystal streams, its mountains, Where among the canyon wilds we rove, we rove. “We’ll now have a few words from one of our Pioneers, Brother Stephens,” announced the manager. A gray-haired veteran of about sixty rose and made his way to the platform. “I’m glad to be here, young folks,” he began; “but I don’t like this preachin’ business one bit--never could git used to it. I’ve often said I’d ruther drive four yoke o’ steers from Winter Quarters to the valleys than make a speech. But maybe I kin tell you a few things ’bout pioneerin’ that’ll interest you. “I’ve pioneered it all my days. That’s why I’m here. Come into this valley to git away from the crowds. From the look o’ things here to-night, I’ll soon hev to be movin’ again. The way these valleys settle up is a caution. “But you want to hear somethin’ else. Well, I come in ’47, not with the first band, but soon after. We had one hundred and thirty-four wagons in our company, all pulled by oxen, three or four yoke to the wagon. Every night we would make a corral of ’em--the wagons, I mean--by swingin’ ’em in a circle with the tongues pintin’ out--you see, leavin’ two openin’s so’s we could drive the cattle in to yoke ’em. Fer we herded ’em out on the hills at night when there wa’n’t any Injuns about, or when there wa’n’t danger of buffaloes stampedin’ the stock.